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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679229">Contact</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletproofTrash/pseuds/BulletproofTrash'>BulletproofTrash</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Strangers and Angels 'verse [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Books: Supernatural Series - Carver Edlund, Christmas, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Episode: s05e22 Swan Song, Episode: s07e06 Slash Fiction, Episode: s07e09 How to Win Friends and Influence Monsters, Episode: s07e22 There Will Be Blood, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, Medical Procedures, Sick Dean Winchester, Thanksgiving, references to episodes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:47:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>51,503</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletproofTrash/pseuds/BulletproofTrash</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Strangers and Angels universe. They still hear from the Winchesters from time to time</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel &amp; Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester &amp; Sam Winchester &amp; Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Strangers and Angels 'verse [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>If you haven't read any of the Stranger and Angels stories before, you'll probably want to do that before you start this story. It's going to assume that you know the OCs and understand the history they have with the Winchesters.</p><p>This work is a repost from <a href="https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10771815/1/Contact">Contact</a> by user <a href="https://www.fanfiction.net/u/443241/">reading</a> on fanfiction(dot)net</p><p>Credits to this work and all the works in this series belong to them.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jo Sweed eyed the mail that her husband had dropped on the coffee table. She tilted her head, sizing up the stack. Bills, a couple of cards, one of those cushioned packing envelopes, and some fliers. She worked the package out from the bottom of the pile and snagged the cards in their pink envelopes. Mother's Day had been last week and while she'd gotten a couple of phone calls on the appropriate day, other expressions of love and appreciation had not arrived in time. She assumed these were the promised notes of adulation.</p><p>Jo smiled at the familiar hands that had scrawled her name and address across the fronts of the envelopes – one was postmarked College Station, the other Houston. She started to open the card from Michael and glanced curiously at the package, wondering which of the boys had gone the extra mile. The handwriting wasn't as familiar as her own children's, but there was something about it that niggled at the back of her brain. There was no return address, but the postmark said Windom, Minnesota. <em>Huh.</em></p><p>Michael's card was typically funny, his dry sense of humor clearly on display. The handwritten note on the inside, though, made her throat ache a little.</p><p>Jake's card was an overblown mess – pink and white and gold with actual glitter that sifted into her lap as she pulled it out of its enormous envelope. The sentiment on the front and inside was written in flowing script and was cringe-worthy in its corniness. "What this said" was all Jake had added. She read it again, and this time it added to the tightness in her throat.</p><p>"The boys finally get those things in the mail?" Luke dropped down next to her, picking up the remote and pointing it at the television. "We ready to queue this up?"</p><p>"Wait for Tommy. I told him he needed to be all the way ready for bed, if he was going to watch with us." She picked up the package.</p><p>"You know how mad Jake is that you're letting Tommy watch <em>Lost</em>?"</p><p>"Me?" Jo gave her husband a jaundiced look as she worked open one end of the padded envelope. "You're the one who caved." She reached into the package and pulled out two books.</p><p>"What are those?"</p><p>"I don't know."</p><p>The books were stacked so that the covers were facing each other. She turned them to see the fronts, the cover art making her eyebrows go up before she showed them to Luke.</p><p>"Nice!" he said, reaching for one. "<em>Home</em>," he read from the book he held. "And <em>Supernatural</em>," he got from the one Jo had. He took it when she held it out to him.</p><p>"What in the world?" Jo asked. She upended the envelope and shook it, looking for information. There was nothing. "Is there a note in one of the books?"</p><p>Luke shook the books by their spines. Nothing fell out.</p><p>"Let me..." Jo took one of the volumes – <em>Supernatural</em> – back from her husband. She studied the cover in confusion. There were two young men in the picture – one bare-chested with flowing hair, the other in a tight t-shirt with a bag of something over his shoulder.</p><p>"Marge is always reading this kind of trash," Luke said as he glanced at Jo. "Would she have mailed...?" He stopped, transfixed by the blurb on the back of the volume Jo held. "Uh, babe."</p><p>"What?" She turned her book over, skimming the words, shock setting in, and then reading aloud. "'Along a lonely California highway, a mysterious Woman in White lures men to their deaths...a terrifying phenomenon that may be'," she faltered, "'Sam and Dean's first clue to their father's whereabouts'."</p>
<hr/><p>Jo shut off the computer and backed away from it slowly. She thought maybe she needed to go wash her hands. Or her mind.</p><p>She had read through the two books she'd been sent in just a couple of days, then handed them off to Luke. She'd recognized the Woman in White story from the first book, <em>Supernatural</em>, as one Sam had told them on the Winchesters' first stay. They'd been sitting out on a cool Sunday evening while Dean had cleaned out the car, the Winchesters telling stories, catching up with each other in some ways (she knew now) and entertaining her and the boys. She'd forgotten about it completely, dismissing the tale as a ghost story at the time, and never thinking about it again even after she and the family had been exposed to what was out there.</p><p><em>Home </em>had broken her heart all over again. She knew the story of their mother's death already, but reading about it again, Mary Winchester protecting her boys from the poltergeist that had taken up residence in their old home, and Dean, shattered, calling John about the case that had taken them back to Lawrence. It had left her aching. And needing to know more.</p><p>The books were by someone named Carver Edlund. She'd gotten online to see what she could find and... uh, wow. She'd stumbled across websites and forums and fan fiction, which, again, wow. She wasn't even sure what to do with a lot of it.</p><p>Eventually, though, she'd found what she was looking for and managed to order all the books that were currently available and pre-ordered the one to be published soon.</p><p>"Sugar, are you OK?" Luke had come in from outside and was looking at her in concern. "You look... unsettled."</p><p>Jo laughed unsteadily. Luke didn't need to know what was out there on the internet about the boys. "I'm fine. Just ready for dinner." She smiled at him gamely.</p><p>He gave her a hard stare, but when she didn't succumb to his attempt to intimidate her into telling the truth, he grunted and put a platter of steaks on the table. He turned toward the door into the family room and bellowed, "Dinner's ready!"</p><p>Jo heard the sound of the television switching off. And moved toward the fridge to put the rest of supper on the table.</p>
<hr/><p>Slowly, Jo turned the pages back to the top one on the sheaf of papers lying in her lap. Tears on her cheeks, she traced her fingers over the words at the top—<em>Swan Song</em>—and placed it to the side. She ran her palms over her face to smooth away the wetness and headed downstairs to start the coffee.</p>
<hr/><p>The envelope was postmarked Cicero, Indiana and stiff, like there was something in it to keep the contents from getting bent.</p><p>Curious, Jo slit open the envelope and pulled out two thin pieces of cardboard. In between were two snapshots. In the first, Dean and a boy sat in the cab of a truck. The boy was behind the wheel, grin on his face, hand on the steering wheel; Dean sat at his side, one arm slung over the back of the seat. In the second photo Dean stood slightly behind a pretty, dark-haired girl. His face was tucked close to hers, and they were casually dressed, both smiling happily. Jo imagined that the boy in the other picture was behind the camera.</p><p>On the back, the photo with the boy said simply, "Ben." On the other Dean had written "Lisa" and "I'm OK."</p>
<hr/><p>The log in the voicemail said "Unknown," and Jo grimaced. She highlighted the entry, and her thumb automatically moved toward "delete." But she hesitated.</p><p>She'd done this before—listened to a message from an anonymous caller, had even answered calls from unfamiliar numbers more often than she cared to admit. Each time she'd been disappointed. But she couldn't seem to stop herself, wondering and hoping...</p><p>She hit the "play" arrow.</p><p>"Uh. Hey, Jo."</p><p>Her breath caught in her throat.</p><p>"It's Sam." His voice was hesitant, slightly rough. "It's been a long time, I know. I... I'm sorry about that." He paused, and Jo could see him in her mind's eye, head bent, one hand over his eyes. She could barely breathe around the pounding of her heart. <em>He's alive?</em> "It's been... We've..." He gave a shaky laugh – it was half amused, half broken. He sighed. "Anyway." Jo guessed he'd decided not to explain.</p><p>"I don't... I don't know what you know." He stopped again. "But I'm OK. I'm... I'm with Dean. He's OK, too."</p><p>There was silence again—drawn out this time to the point that Jo thought maybe he'd hung up.</p><p>"I'm sorry I missed you," he finally said softly. "I just wanted..." He trailed off, but he started again. "I don't... I don't guess you heard from me in the last year or so?" Jo's eyebrows went up. "Things have been... I don't... I don't remember everything, I guess, and I wanted to make sure..." Another pause. "I'll call you back, OK?"</p><p>Jo had almost disconnected when Sam started again, speaking quickly like he'd forgotten something. "Oh. And I hope... I hope everything's OK with you guys. I hope..." There was one last stretch of quiet before, "I'll call you back," he said again.</p><p>He never did.</p>
<hr/><p>"Luke!" Matt's shout had Luke turning around so fast he got a crick in his neck.</p><p>"Crap," he winced, hand coming up to press at the pain. "What?" he called back with more bite than the summons deserved. He'd been headed out for a sandwich, but he hadn't gotten very far down the sidewalk.</p><p>"You're gonna want to see this," was the answer. "Now."</p><p>Luke gave a heavy sigh and headed back to the office.</p><p>His deputy motioned him toward the corner of the large open room where they kept the television and still managed to gesture vaguely at their desks. "The crime alert came in over email a few minutes ago, but... I saw this on the news and..."</p><p>Luke stopped. And stared.</p><p>Matt had paused the newscast on a grainy video feed. Dean and Sam were both looking at the camera, guns in hand, smirks on their faces.</p><p>"Wha-?"</p><p>"Watch." Matt hit play, and the reporter's voice started up.</p><p>"... two men, who up until today were presumed dead, locked the doors and opened fire, leaving no survivors. Sam and Dean Winchester are now the subjects of a manhunt throughout the state of California."</p><p>"Supposedly they robbed a bank and gunned down all the customers and staff in the vault." Matt had muted the talking head and was watching Luke closely. "They're number two on the most wanted list."</p><p>"I don't...," Luke faltered to a stop, brain stuck on the images replaying on the television, the news crawl along the bottom of the screen continuing to scroll through the details. "I mean, it can't..." He looked helplessly at his deputy. "It isn't them."</p><p>"I know," Matt said simply. "Can you get in touch with them?"</p><p>Luke shook his head. Matt knew that the Winchesters hadn't been to visit in a while. "We hear from them occasionally, but never with anything we can use to contact them in return." He rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Jackasses," he muttered.</p><p>"Damn."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>When Luke's phone rang, he knew who it was without looking at the caller i.d. "Honey..."</p><p>"Luke, are you seeing this?" Jo's voice was distraught, and her tone was edging into hysteria. "What in the world is going on?"</p><p>"I have no idea." He paused. "I don't guess there's any chance you can think of <em>some</em> way we can get hold of them? Is Bobby completely out as an option?"</p><p>"He hasn't returned my calls since he told me Dean had stopped hunting after Sam... fell. The last time I even tried, his number no longer worked," she sighed heavily.</p><p>Luke's own huff of breath echoed his wife's. "I'll see what I can find out," he said.</p><p>"Yeah. OK." She sounded so discouraged. "Call me."</p><p>Luke nodded, distracted. He opened his mouth to respond to his wife when his phone chimed to let him know the call had been disconnected. He went to drop the phone back in his pocket when it dinged twice in rapid succession.</p><p>Two texts.</p><p>From Michael: Have you seen the news? That can't really be D&amp;S. Have you heard from them? What is going on?</p><p>From Jake: R U watching this whts ging on callme</p><p>Luke shook his. Typical. Of both of them. "Michael and Jakey," he told Matt. "I should call them." His eyes went back to the TV. "Any idea how to find out more?"</p><p>"What about the BAU?" Matt offered hesitantly.</p><p>Luke grimaced thoughtfully. He hated to call Agent Hotchner when the man had done so much to protect Dean and Sam already. Luke wondered if any of that was coming back on the agent.</p><p>"Let's not," he finally said. "At least not yet."</p>
<hr/><p>Luke never called Agent Hotchner. The news coverage was obsessive and when Luke heard the Winchesters had been spotted at a gas station a thousand miles from a second bank robbery (this one in Wisconsin) with no time to have actually made the trip, he breathed a sigh of relief. Luke had never thought that Sam and Dean were guilty of the crimes they were accused of, but an explanation – even in the "maybe they have evil-twins" genre – eased his anxiety a couple of degrees for some reason.</p><p>Even so, the news didn't get any better. The massacre in St. Louis was horrific and the next word they got was that the Winchesters had been captured in Ankeny, Iowa.</p><p>Luke had decided to head north and had just finished packing, prepared with a story of crimes committed in his own jurisdiction and a need to see the culprits, when Jo called out from downstairs.</p><p>Jo simply pointed at the television as he entered the family room.</p><p>"To repeat, Dean and Sam Winchester were killed in a shootout at the police station in Ankeny, Iowa. Both local law enforcement and the federal officers assigned to the manhunt have confirmed the deaths of these two dangerous fugitives."</p><p>"It probably wasn't actually them," Luke said roughly.</p><p>"I know," Jo said.</p>
<hr/><p>From an unknown number to every phone in the family.</p><p>"Don't eat at Biggerson's. Seriously. Don't."</p>
<hr/><p>"Stay away from that high-fructose corn syrup crap, too."</p>
<hr/><p>And then... silence.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Dr. McCrae?"</p><p>A hand shook him roughly, and Michael opened his eyes groggily. "Yeah?" He cleared his throat, squinting at the face on the other end of the arm attached to the offending hand. He sat up slowly. If he was being woken up, it was bound to be something that would require his getting out of bed.</p><p>"They're calling all hands on deck; building collapse, multiple traumas."</p><p>"Yeah," Michael said again. "OK." He looked at the clock. 3:24. A.M. He'd gotten less than an hour. Halloween was a busy night in any ER. "Coffee?" He thought he actually could smell it, he needed it so bad.</p><p>"Don't burn yourself," was the response as a hot cup was placed in his hands. "And don't drop it," was the amused follow-up admonition when he startled a bit in surprise.</p><p>Michael nodded gratefully, drawing the paper cup closer to his chest with both hands to steady his grip, then raising it to his lips for a careful sip. <em>Ah.</em> "Thanks." He peered at the woman again, brain beginning to clear. "Martha."</p><p>Martha laughed. "You're welcome, hon." She patted his shoulder. "Now get going."</p><p>"Right." Michael got to his feet and headed for the door. He no longer took his shoes off when he got a chance to sleep while on shift, and with the hand not clutching his coffee, Michael straightened his white coat and his ID badge as he went, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and trying to smooth down his hair.</p><p>Everyone in the ER was in motion as Michael arrived and though it may have looked chaotic, Michael knew it wasn't, and he entered without hesitation into the dance of preparation for a large-scale emergency. He'd finished off his coffee in the elevator in one long, burning gulp – a skill he'd perfected since arriving for his residency in emergency medicine – and tossed the cup in a trash can so he could take the handful of sterile gloves being thrust at him.</p><p>There were eleven victims, all in their late teens or early 20s—broken bones, lacerations, internal injuries. They'd been in the basement of an abandoned house about 15 minutes east of town when the floor above had collapsed on top of them. One of the kids had managed to call for help before passing out.</p><p>"What the hell were they doing in there anyway?" asked the attending doctor as she checked the responsiveness of the pupils of an unconscious girl.</p><p>"I heard they were out at the old Davis place," said one of the techs, clipping x-rays into the light boards for Michael to read. She glanced at another of the techs, who rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He'd just wheeled in a fifth victim, handing off the paperwork to another resident who was in the process of stripping off bloody gloves and dropping them into a medical waste container.</p><p>The attending caught Michael's eyes, confused and annoyed. He shrugged. "And?" Michael prodded, eying the films, looking for more breaks in his patient's femur beyond the messy compound fracture he was already well aware of. This kid had a long recovery ahead of him.</p><p>"It's supposed to haunted," said the second tech, Dwayne. Both he and the first tech were from the area and were often good sources of information for people new to the area—whether that was where to get the best BBQ in town or local myths and practices. At the skeptical looks he was receiving from Michael and the attending, he added, "I'm just telling you what I've heard."</p><p>The other resident, Taya, snorted, then grimaced at the long, thin splinter of wood impaling the moaning boy on the gurney that had been rolled in front of her.</p><p>"Oh, for God's sake," said the attending, disgusted. "I hate stupidity." She dismissed the conversation and turned back to her patient. "We're going to need a CT scan for this one," she gritted.</p><p>Michael forced his attention back to his own patient, well-versed by this point in his residency at putting aside anything that might distract him from caring for a patient. But the mention of a haunted house... <em>Stop</em>. Michael rolled his head around on his neck, listening for the responding pops before focusing deliberately on the x-rays at hand. <em>There</em>. Five more breaks. <em>Damn.</em></p><p>The house collapse had not been the only emergency that night – Halloween was always a nightmare at the hospital. Any hospital. Tricks gone wrong, drinking, driving, over-anxious parents who were sure little Jimmy's vomiting was due to poisoned treats instead of the fact the kid had eaten 107 pieces of candy while his mother and father had their backs turned. Michael had learned to hate Halloween since he'd started working in hospitals.</p><p>By the time they'd cleared the ER, it was closer to seven in the morning than six, and Michael was sitting in the doctor's lounge, another cup of coffee in hand trying to decide whether he was going to need breakfast or sleep more when his shift ended in 20 minutes. Today was... Monday. No, Tuesday, which meant Jake's first class started at 9:10. If Michael called to see about meeting for breakfast, his little brother would be pissed about being woken before absolutely necessary – 8:55 in Jake's opinion – given they lived within walking/sprinting distance of the law school, but Michael didn't much care. Jake generally forgave these "early" morning wake up calls once he'd had coffee. Michael reached for his phone.</p><p>"McCrae."</p><p>Michael didn't quite stifle his groan.</p><p>"Don't whine," was the clipped reply. As attending, Camille Hubbard, had the least amount of compassion Michael had ever experienced – and it didn't matter if you were a colleague (subordinate or superior), or a patient. She dispensed equal opportunity contempt. Sadly, she was good enough at her job that most people gave her a pass.</p><p>Michael didn't respond to the reprimand, just stuck his phone back in his pocket and stood.</p><p>"Another bus is on its way in, and you're the only one who's still around."</p><p>Of course he was. Everyone else had made themselves scarce when things had calmed down – available by page, but not dumb enough to actually hang out in the first place Hubbard would look if she needed an assist. He was never going to learn.</p><p>"Yeah," he said, resigned, following her out of the room.</p><p>He and Hubbard stood outside the ER doors waiting on the arrival of the ambulance. When it arrived, the guy on the gurney they were unloading was tall, feet hanging off the end, one leg splinted with what looked like another compound fracture, the other bent somewhat awkwardly, like the EMTs had tried to make it fit on the stretcher as best they could. The cervical collar was almost unrecognizable given that it was coated with blood, and the strap across the man's forehead was the same crimson. Michael could see even under the gore that the skull was fractured, a slight, but noticeable depression at the hairline over the left eyebrow. The man's face had already swollen, features blurred and distorted under the congealing blood.</p><p>"Has he been sedated?" barked Hubbard as she trotted alongside the gurney, already lifting an eyelid and checking for responsiveness.</p><p>"No," returned the EMT sharply, the "you, bitch" implied if not stated explicitly. "He's unconscious." George was in and out of the ER with enough regularity to be familiar with Hubbard's bedside manner, but that knowledge didn't always make it easier to deal with her default assumption that everyone around her was incompetent. "He's another victim from the house collapse."</p><p>Michael's eyes snapped to the EMT. That meant the guy had been hours without appropriate treatment for what looked like a massive trauma to his brain.</p><p>"Yeah," agreed George grimly, without Michael actually having to say a word. "Evidently one of the initial kids was finally coherent enough to talk, and they realized there was another person in the basement. Looked like this guy was right under the spot where the floor came down – the rest of the kids were on the fringe – believe it or not – of the collapse."</p><p>It was hard to believe, given the injuries they'd seen earlier. They'd made it to the examining room and the background details no longer mattered as much as assessing the man's current condition.</p><p>Michael stepped into the role of support for Hubbard without thought as she examined the head wound. She might not be easy to work with, but Camille Hubbard was one of the best in the field of emergency medicine. Frankly, Michael was always glad for the opportunity to watch her work and learn what he could.</p><p>The CT scan confirmed what they could see quite plainly with their eyes—depressed cranial fracture. The man had been stabilized in the field, airway cleared and circulation assessed, and now Hubbard was focused on determining the next step in treatment.</p><p>"Bring that light around, McCrae."</p><p>Michael dodged the people working on the patient's broken leg—yep, another compound fracture of the femur, ugh—and internal injuries, swinging one of the overhead lamps toward the head of the table. He expected nothing more than the chance to observe. And maybe hand the woman instruments. If she was feeling generous.</p><p>Dr. Hubbard jerked her chin at the head wound and then at the CT results. "What do you see?"</p><p>Michael faltered. Hubbard was notoriously stingy with her expertise, sharing it with residents only when ordered to by her superiors. Not that the woman considered anyone her superior.</p><p>"Well?" she snapped.</p><p>And Michael stepped forward.</p>
<hr/><p>Dean woke slowly, groggy and aching. He'd gone to bed early the night before – though "night" wasn't really accurate, more like late-afternoon – with a headache he hadn't been able to get rid of and a throat that hurt so bad he could barely swallow. Sleep hadn't improved either his head or his throat, and he stifled a groan as he rolled over.</p><p>In the dim light of morning filtering through the blinds, Dean could see that Sam's bed was rumpled, but empty. Dean didn't hear his brother in the bathroom, which meant he could have it himself, if he could make it over there. He got painfully to his feet and shuffled his way toward the toilet.</p><p>When he staggered back out of the bathroom, Dean leaned heavily on the doorjamb before aiming his exhausted body back to the bed. He collapsed onto the mattress and lay there unmoving for a long time, trying to catch his breath.</p><p><em>Damn</em>.</p><p>He wondered if Sam had gone to get breakfast and hoped vaguely that he wouldn't bring any food back with him as just the thought of eating made Dean's stomach roll uncomfortably. Dean swallowed convulsively, felt himself start to drift back to sleep and didn't fight it.</p>
<hr/><p>"Hey."</p><p>Jake turned around at the sound of his brother's voice.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" Michael looked beyond exhausted, and there was a bright red smudge of what Jake knew had to be blood on the hem of his scrub pants.</p><p>"Looking for you. I brought you something to eat." Jake held up a bag of his brother's favorite breakfast tacos.</p><p>Michael reached for it eagerly, if somewhat clumsily, and took the cup of coffee Jake handed over next. "I'm off shift," he said, heading toward the break room as Jake trailed after him. "How'd you know I was here?"</p><p>Jake scoffed. "Where else would you be?"</p><p>Michael sank into one of the couches, setting his cup of coffee on the nearby table. He gave his brother a rueful look. "Fair enough." His eyes sharpened as they skimmed over Jake's face. "You look hung-over," he observed clinically.</p><p>Jake laughed. "I am a little bit, yeah." There'd been a party the previous night for Halloween, and though Jake hadn't planned to stay long, he had. And had too much to drink. And not gotten more than a couple of hours of sleep last night. He'd made his 9:10 class—barely—but a lot of his classmates hadn't.</p><p>Michael shook his head. "You eat anything?"</p><p>"Not up for it quite yet," Jake admitted.</p><p>"I guess the party lived up to its name," Michael commented wryly.</p><p>The annual Halloween bash had been a tradition at the law school for decades, and though it was no longer officially called the "Fall Drunk," like it had been early on, the principle remained the same for many students.</p><p>Jake shrugged. He reached for Michael's coffee, and his brother handed it over absently before turning his attention to wolfing down the tacos. Jake took a sip and grimaced at the bitter blackness of it. Jake still needed a little cream and sugar in his own.</p><p>They sat for a while as Michael ate.</p><p>"Come on," Jake said. "I'll give you a ride home." It was just after 11, and Michael had been at the hospital for over 40 hours. It was time for him to leave.</p><p>"Yeah," Michael said tiredly. He wadded up his trash and swallowed down the last of the coffee after taking it out of Jake's hand. "I've just gotta check on one patient before..."</p><p>"You 'gotta'?" Jake interrupted. "Or you wanna?"</p><p>Michael gave him a small smile. "Wanna," he admitted.</p><p>Jake tried to stare his brother down, but Michael's gaze didn't falter.</p><p>Jake sighed. "Fine. But I'm going with you to make sure you don't get lost and wander into another emergency," he grumbled.</p><p>Michael's smile turned into a grin. "When did you become Mom?" he teased.</p><p>"Shut up," Jake muttered.</p><p>Sadly, though, it was true. Since they'd moved in together last spring with Michael starting his residency at the hospital, and Jake slated to start law school in the fall, Jake had unwittingly taken on Aunt Jo's tendency to fuss and worry over his brother. Michael had started at the hospital right away while Jake had gotten a job at a local coffee shop to earn some money and keep himself occupied. He'd had plenty of time, though, over the summer to get in the habit of making sure his brother ate and slept occasionally. Starting school had distracted him, admittedly, but Jake was determined to do what he could to keep Michael from working himself to death when he had time.</p><p>"It won't take long, Jakey, I promise," Michael assured him. "The guy is still in surgery. I just want to see how it's going."</p><p>Jake followed Michael out of the lounge and down the hall to the surgery department.</p><p>"When's your next class?" Michael asked.</p><p>"2:15."</p><p>"Are you going to be home tonight?" Michael used his ID to get them into the back part of the surgery.</p><p>"Not until late. I have a writing project due on Friday that I've got to get finished. I'm going to stay at the library as long as I can stand it."</p><p>"Okay. I think I'm going to make chili after I get some sleep."</p><p>"Sweet." He thought for a second. "Maybe I'll work at home," he mused.</p><p>Michael tossed him a glance from where he'd moved toward the door that led into the actual surgery theater, and Jake just shrugged.</p><p>"I'll be right back," Michael said and eased into the scrubbing area, from where, Jake suspected, he'd watch whatever operation it was that he was interested in.</p><p>Jake settled in to wait, wishing he'd brought his backpack. He might have been able to get a little studying in while Michael was checking on his patient.</p><p>His brother wasn't gone long, though.</p><p>"Everything OK?" Jake asked.</p><p>"Hard to know," Michael said grimly. "He had a bad skull fracture and a compound fracture of the femur."</p><p>"Compound? That's where the bone sticks out?" Jake choked on a gag reflex at the mere thought of it. "Gross."</p><p>"Yeah." Michael scrubbed his hands over his head. "Let's go."</p>
<hr/><p>When Dean woke again it was significantly darker in the room. He lay on his back, head still pounding, throat feeling like sandpaper. He didn't know that he'd ever felt this bad without being actually physically injured. He rolled his head gingerly to the side. The other bed was still rumpled and empty. He peered toward the bathroom, but it also seemed vacant to his gritty eyes.</p><p>"Sam?" he rasped. Started to cough weakly.</p><p><em>Damn</em>.</p><p>There was no answer, and Dean slapped haphazardly at the bedside table trying to reach his phone. When he managed to get a hand on it, he hauled the little piece of technology toward him. Had it always been this heavy?</p><p>He peered at the display. It was almost five in the evening and there was nothing to indicate Sam had either texted or left him a voicemail. Dean struggled to remember what he and Sam had talked about before Dean had turned in the night before. As far as he could recall, Sam had been sitting on the opposite bed, watching TV.</p><p>Slowly, Dean raised his head enough to squint for the speed dial and pushed the button. When he got Sam's voicemail – after almost falling back asleep while the phone was ringing—he managed, "Hey, man." Dean cleared his throat around the pain and the roughness. "Where are you?" He fished around in his foggy brain for something else to say, but couldn't come up with anything, so he ended the call. He wondered if it would sound as pathetic to Sam when he listened as it did to Dean as he'd said it. He let his head ease back in to the pillow. Not to have heard from Sam for such a long time was not good. He needed to get up and go look for his brother.</p><p>But maybe he'd rest for just a second.</p>
<hr/><p>When Dean woke up again, it was full dark, and it took a minute for his brain to clear. Then...</p><p>"Damn it!" Dean cursed himself as he struggled upright, had to pause, panting once he was sitting. His head was pounding and there was an exhaustion in his bones that had him listing to the side, just wanting to lie back down again.</p><p>"No." Dean ground his teeth, jerking up, forcing himself to stay vertical as he searched the bedclothes for his phone. He found it under his butt, but there was still nothing from Sam.</p><p>Dean got unsteadily to his feet and headed for the door. It took him a little while to get the bolt undone, but when he opened it, what he was looking for was right there. The Impala was still in her spot in front of their room. So Sam hadn't driven anywhere.</p><p>Dean closed the door behind him and dialed Sam again. He was shuffling around the room, casting around for his boots when someone answered the phone.</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p>The voice was young and female and definitely not Sam. This could not be good.</p><p>"Who is this?" Dean ground out.</p><p>"This is Detective Irma Moreno. Who is this?"</p><p>Dean swallowed. <em>Damn</em>. "My name is Dean. I'm trying to reach my brother."</p><p>It was odd to use his real name, but a few months ago he and Sam had paid <em>a lot </em>of money to have a very talented, very expensive tech person scrub their history. Sam had taken care of the details, but he'd assured Dean that they were clean in the system. It had been a good feeling. And if they kept their heads down, they should be able to stay off the radar of anyone who <em>might </em>remember who they were.</p><p>"Dean, I'm at the scene of a house collapse, and this phone was found in the rubble."</p><p>Dean froze. "Was he...? Is he...?" Dean couldn't get the question out.</p><p>"All of the victims have been taken to Brackenridge hospital. At this point I'm not aware of any fatalities." The woman was kind, if cool, as she relayed the information. "Do you know why your brother would have been in the house?" she asked.</p><p>He hesitated. "What house?" Dean asked, though he had sneaking suspicion that he knew.</p><p>"It's at 8432 Bowie St." She pronounced it <em>boo-y</em> like the knife. Not <em>bow-y</em> like the singer.</p><p>Yep. The house they'd been checking out for a haunting. And just down the street from where they were currently staying. But the ghost shouldn't be active for another week, so Dean couldn't think of any reason Sam would have been there.</p><p>"I can't think of any reason," Dean said truthfully. In spite of the urgency now nagging at him, the exhaustion in his voice didn't fade any. "I've been sick, and I just realized Sam wasn't here."</p><p>"Where are you, Dean?"</p><p>Dean told her the name of the motel, not seeing a reason to hide where he was.</p><p>There was a pause on the other end of the line. "That's not far from the house."</p><p>Dean knew that. They'd deliberately picked this place for its proximity.</p><p>"Really? We're just passing through, so I'm not familiar with this area. Where did you say my brother was again?" He wanted off the phone, wanted to get to Sam.</p><p>Dean coughed heavily into the phone. It was only partially put on. He'd felt the tickle of a cough in his painful throat since the conversation had started, but felt like some indication of illness might win him a little sympathy. Unfortunately once he let the coughing out, he couldn't stop and by the time he was done hacking up his lungs, he was breathless and nauseous. Maybe not such a great idea.</p><p>Except that... "Wow, that sounds painful," said the detective sympathetically.</p><p>"Yeah," Dean rasped, wiping at the moisture that had sprung up in his eyes. He wheezed into the phone, "I'm sorry, I..."</p><p>"Don't apologize, please," said the detective. "Listen, I'm not sure exactly which of the victims your brother might be, but all the casualties were taken to the ER at Brack." She rattled off the address. "You might get there as soon as you can. I'm sure they'll have information about your brother." He heard her talking in a low voice to someone in the background. "I'll have someone take your brother's phone by the hospital with the rest of the personal belongings we're finding."</p><p>"Thanks," Dean said sincerely if still a little breathlessly. "I'll head that way."</p><p>When he could get air into his lung again.</p><p>After he hung up with the detective, Dean forced himself to pause and catch his breath. His mind was screaming <em>move, move, move</em>, but his body just wasn't having it. Finally, he resumed his search for his boots, eyes narrowed against the pain in his head. When he found them – one sticking out from under Sam's bed, he bent over to pick them up off the floor and almost face planted into the carpet. Fortunately, he managed to catch himself before he fell. But it took him another few minutes to regain his equilibrium and actually get his shoes on.</p><p>When he finally made it into the bathroom to splash water on his face and brush his teeth, the reflection in the mirror did not look good – he was pale and his eyes looked oddly swollen. He definitely needed a shower, but all things considered, it was possible he'd pass out if he tried right now. Better to make it to the hospital, even looking like he'd been hit by a truck, than not to make it at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean had to take another few minutes after he'd parked the car to gather up the energy he needed to go into the building. He'd forgotten to take anything for his head before he left the motel, so he rooted around lethargically in the glove box until he uncovered the bottle of Advil they kept there. Shaking out three capsules with the care of someone who was afraid his head might fall off, Dean uncapped an old bottle of water and carefully tossed the medication to the back of his mouth before chasing it with a slug of water.</p><p>"Ow, ow, ow," he whispered when swallowing reawakened the pain in his throat.</p><p>The walk from the parking garage was exhausting, and when he approached the information desk, the volunteer sitting there was already standing and pointing down a hall where Dean could see the sign for the ER. <em>Awesome.</em> Dean shook his head.</p><p>"No," he rasped. "I'm actually looking for someone who's probably been admitted."</p><p>The older woman in the pink smock eyed him with concern. "Are you sure, sweetie? You don't look good."</p><p>"You should see the other guy," he tried to deflect with an attempt at a charming grin. The woman did not seem impressed. Dean sighed. "My brother was in the house collapse?" he asked. "I don't know if he's been identified. His name is Sam Winchester."</p><p>The volunteer's expression changed again, and she turned immediately to her computer, typing quickly. "Here he is. Intensive care, fifth floor."</p><p>"Thank you." Dean looked around uncertainly. He needed to know... "Where...?"</p><p>The woman leaned over the desk slightly and pointed. "Elevators."</p><p>Dean was already turning around and flapped a hand at her over his shoulder in thanks. When he reached the elevators he pushed the top button. He fought the urge to lean against the wall as he waited, because he wasn't sure he wouldn't just slide down to the floor and not be able to get back up again. He held himself stiffly, body tensed in an effort to stave off the weariness loosening his muscles and making him feel like the only appropriate position for him was horizontal.</p><p>When the elevator dinged and the door slid open, Dean stepped inside and concentrated some more on staying upright until he could move again. The ride to the fifth floor seemed to happen between blinks, and Dean was vaguely concerned that he might have actually drifted off there for a moment. But it didn't matter as long as he was where he was supposed to be. And he was, if the desk in front of him with the sign that said "Intensive Care Unit" was any indication. And he hoped it was.</p><p>There wasn't anyone at the desk and as much as Dean wanted to see his brother as soon as possible, he decided that asking about seeing Sam while looking – apparently – like someone who needed an emergency room immediately might not help him out much in that department. He could see a men's room to his right, so he made his way there.</p><p>His reflection confirmed that his appearance hadn't improved any since he'd last seen himself in a mirror. He blinked heavily at his image and tried to think through possible triage. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. Maybe he could pass it off as a hangover. Last night had been... Monday? Not really a party night, but. Oh. And Halloween. That really might work. He turned the water on as cold as he could and splashed it over his face. He forced his eyes open as wide as he could and plastered on a grin. He checked his reflection. Yeesh. That was going to get the psych ward called. So he tuned the grin down to a more rueful, damn-my-head-hurts-maybe-that-last-round-of-shots-wasn't-such-a-good-idea level and tried again. Better.</p><p>"Hi."</p><p>The guy who was now at the info desk gave Dean a doubtful look as he approached.</p><p>"They told me downstairs that my brother is up here – Sam Winchester." Dean was doing his best not to sound as exhausted as he felt, but he didn't have to force the impatience he was feeling into his voice.</p><p>The man checked the computer and nodded. "He's here."</p><p>"I'd like to see him."</p><p>Narrowed eyes ran over him, assessing. "If you're sick..."</p><p>"Look, man," Dean said, rubbing his hand over his neck. "I had a <em>bad</em> Halloween, and I was sleeping it off, but got woken up by someone calling to tell me a house collapsed on my little brother. Can you just give me a break?"</p><p>With a shake of his head and a huff of a laugh, the guy hit the button that opened the door into the ICU. "Ask at the nurse's station."</p><p>Dean thumped his fist twice on the desk. "Thanks."</p><p>While the nurse at the interior desk gave him a suspicious look not unlike the man's outside, he still led Dean directly to his brother.</p><p>"The primary concern right now is the head injury," the nurse told him as they entered the room, "though Dr. Ward said the surgery went well. They were able to repair the skull fracture, and they've implanted a bolt to monitor the pressure for now. Sam also suffered a severe leg fracture that's going to require intensive physical therapy."</p><p>Dean nodded along, feeling somewhat dazed, as the guy talked, making his way to the bed, eyes already on an almost unrecognizable Sam. His brother's face was puffy, the usual sharp angles of his cheek bones and jaw blurred by swelling from the surgery and the original trauma. Sam's left leg was encased in an oversized splint, held motionless by a series of pulleys and what looked like a weight that hung off the end of the bed.</p><p>"Can I stay?" Dean asked. Different hospitals had different policies on visiting, and he was relieved when the nurse nodded.</p><p>"That chair pulls out almost flat," he said, gesturing. "And I'll get you a pillow," he added as he left.</p><p>"Thanks," Dean said after him. With the nurse out of sight, Dean sank – collapsed, actually – into the indicated chair, the ability to pretend draining out of him now that he was with Sam, and they were alone.</p><p>He turned toward his unconscious brother and just for a moment rested his forehead against the mattress by Sam's arm.</p><p>"What the hell, Sammy?" he muttered.</p><hr/><p>When Dean woke it was light again. He'd settled back in the chair after the nurse – Andy – had brought him a pillow, wrestling the damned thing into a reclining position before essentially passing out. He had hazy memories of people coming in and out during the night, but nothing that had really roused him. He rubbed a hand over his face trying to clear the cobwebs, but the exhaustion that he'd been feeling the last few days still weighed him down. It didn't seem like any amount of sleep was helping.</p><p>He checked his watch – it was almost 10 – then glanced at the bed. Sam looked even worse than he had the night before, the sunlight streaming in from the window showing the bruising and swelling on his face and body in stark relief. In addition to the mess of his head, the skin of Sam's arms and shoulders exposed around the hospital gown he wore were mottled with ugly looking bruising that made Dean's already aching body twinge in sympathy. It had been a long time since either of them had been injured this badly. Dean hadn't missed it.</p><p>Slowly Dean got to his feet.</p><p>"I'm just hitting the head," he rasped at his brother. "Don't go anywhere."</p><p>He made his way to the bathroom. Given how crappy he felt, Dean really didn't want to check the mirror to see how bad he looked, but he figured he might as well be prepared. His eyes flicked to his reflection, and he winced. It was not good – he wouldn't have thought it possible, but he looked even worse than he had the night before. He needed to think of some reason for his appearance as he was fairly certain the nursing staff would not be falling for a multi-day hangover excuse.</p><p>When he came out of the bathroom, he was met by a nurse who was unfamiliar. She took one look at him, and the frown on her face told him he was busted.</p><p>"Who are you?" she asked.</p><p>Dean tipped his head at Sam. "I'm Sam's brother."</p><p>She glanced down at the chart in her hand. "Mr. ... Winchester?" At Dean's tight nod, she continued briskly, "We can't allow ill people in the ICU. The chance of infection..."</p><p>"Yeah," Dean admitted tiredly. "I thought it was a hangover, but..."</p><p>"You're going to need to leave immediately and..."</p><p>"Look." Dean wasn't sure that interrupting the woman would help his case any, but he wasn't leaving yet, and there was no point in letting her think he was. "I don't want to cause trouble, and I don't want to make my brother sick any more than you want him to be sick, but I'm not leaving until I talk to the doctor. I'll do whatever you want me to do, but I'm the only family he has, and I need to know what's going on."</p><p>The nurse glowered at him for a long minute. Then huffed out a breath. "Well. You can't wait in here."</p><p>Dean started to protest, but was unable to muster up the breath to say a word after his last statement, and the nurse plowed on. "That's not negotiable. You can sit in the waiting room outside of the ICU until the doctor gets here. I'll let you come in when he's evaluating your brother, but you're wearing a mask and scrubbing with anti-bacterial soap and not getting anywhere close to your brother or any other patient." She paused, daring him to contradict her. "Do you understand me?" she asked sternly.</p><p>"Yes, ma'am, I do," Dean said. And he did. He didn't like it, but he didn't have the energy to fight her on it.</p><p>She pointed to the door, physically blocking his access to Sam. "I'll let you know when the doctor arrives."</p><p>Dean nodded, hesitated before obeying the gesture. "I'll be back, Sammy," he said, angling his head to address his brother around the nurse.</p><p>There was a slight softening in the woman's expression. "I'll let you know," she said again.</p><hr/><p>Michael shrugged into his white coat and slung his stethoscope around his neck. He'd managed just over 24 hours away from the hospital. Jake had mocked him as he'd left the house, but Michael had wanted to get in on surgical rounds to see how some of the patients that had come through the ER Halloween night were doing. As an emergency department resident, Michael didn't often venture into other parts of the hospital, but he liked knowing how things worked outside his own area of interest and growing expertise. He felt like it made him better in assessing emergencies if he knew more about where patients were headed next.</p><p>"Were you in on the house collapse the other night?" Charlie Warren was a fourth year med student that Michael had gotten to know some since he'd arrived at the hospital. They were waiting for Dr. Arnold to join them to lead rounds.</p><p>Michael nodded. "Yeah. Figured I'd see how y'all were treating them," he grinned at his friend.</p><p>Before Charlie could respond, Dr. Arnold stepped into the group. "Dr. McCrae, glad you could join us."</p><p>"Thank you, sir," Michael said. It wasn't the first time he'd trailed a group Dr. Arnold was shepherding through rounds.</p><p>"Did I see you in the gallery for one of the house collapse surgeries?" the man asked, glancing down at the list of patients they would be seeing that day.</p><p>"Yes, sir. Fractured skull and compound fracture of the femur."</p><p>"Right." The doctor looked around the group. "Dr. Mani, you were in on that surgery, weren't you?"</p><p>"Yes, doctor."</p><p>"Let's start there then. I want to check the bolt we inserted and monitor the intracranial pressure." Arnold started down the hall. "Dr. Mani, fill in your colleagues."</p><p>They entered the ICU through the staff corridors.</p><p>"Doctors," the nurse at the desk greeted them.</p><p>"Jane," said Dr. Arnold, "we're going to start with..." he checked his notes again, "Winchester this afternoon. 522?"</p><p>Michael blinked.</p><p>The nurse nodded. "His brother's here in the waiting room. He's sick, but I told him if he waited outside, he could talk to you before he left. I'm going to go get him."</p><p>In something of a daze, Michael turned to watch her go, almost following her to see...</p><p>"Mike."</p><p>Michael whipped back around at the sound of his name. Charlie jerked his head in the direction the rest of the group was going. "You coming?"</p><p>Michael's head swiveled toward the nurse, then back to his friend. "Yeah." He hustled to catch up. "Sorry." He passed Charlie quickly and pretty much elbowed his way to the front of the huddle of students around the bed.</p><p>The man lying there had been cleaned up since Michael had first seen him, the streaks of blood and dust no longer masking his features. The swelling, too, had abated some and...</p><p>"Sam Winchester is a 34 year old male who suffered a series of blunt trauma injuries when a house collapsed on top of him."</p><p>
  <em>Holy crap.</em>
</p><hr/><p>"Mr. Winchester?"</p><p>Dean came awake slowly, foggy and achy, but responsive to the snap of the nurse's voice above him. He'd stretched out on a couch in the waiting room and...</p><p>"The doctor is here to see your brother." The woman stepped back as Dean pushed himself up off the couch. "Put this on." She handed him a surgical mask that he fumbled over the lower part of his face. "And use this on your hands and arms up to your elbows."</p><p>She held out and upended bottle of sanitizer and Dean extended his hands. She squeezed an enormous dollop of the liquid into each palm. As Dean began to rub the cleanser over his hands and arms, the woman started to walk.</p><p>"Follow me."</p><p>Dean stumbled after her, struggling to keep up both physically and mentally. He'd obeyed the woman almost instinctively, not completely sure in the moment what she was telling him, but aware on some level that he needed to do what she said.</p><p>As they entered the ICU Dean's head began to clear again, though the damn headache was still present in full force. <em>Doctor, right.</em> They were going to look at Sam and tell Dean what the hell was going on with his brother. He stepped up his pace to keep stride as best he could with the nurse.</p><p>When they got to Sam's room, there was a crowd of white coats standing around the bed, one young woman talking while the rest nodded and took notes. Dean opened his mouth to ask how his brother was, but shut it again when the nurse frowned at him, putting a finger to her lips. "Wait," she whispered. Dean frowned back at her, but did as he was told, frustrated when he realized she couldn't see his mouth behind the stupid mask. He narrowed his eyes at her as ferociously as he could to indicate his displeasure. She ignored him, attention now on the doctors in the room.</p><p>They weren't talking at a volume that allowed Dean to hear well enough to really follow what they were talking about, but he caught a reference to pressure on the brain and a follow up remark about possible ramifications of damage. He was afraid for a minute he might be physically sick. He forced the bile back down and took a slight step forward, straining to hear better, intent on the oldest doctor in the room, the one who was guiding the conversation about Dean's brother.</p><p>He was so focused on the lead doctor that it took a little while for it to register with Dean that he was being watched. It was prickle at the back of his very tired brain that made Dean take his eyes off the older man and begin to check for who might be watching him. His gaze moved over the cluster of student doctors, but they were either attentive to the one talking or examining Sam with assessing, clinical eyes. Then his attention was caught by a man standing right next to the bed Sam was in, one hand actually on the bed, almost touching Sam's arm, head bent slightly, eyes currently taking in all of Sam, not just the horrible injuries the rest of the doctors were focused on.</p><p>When the man's head came up, his eyes met Dean's directly, astonished. And familiar.</p><p><em>Michael</em>.</p><p>Dean actually mouthed the word behind his mask, knew his eyes were now as comically wide as Michael's.</p><p>"Mr. Winchester?"</p><p>With an effort, Dean wrested his attention from Michael – <em>Michael</em> – to the doctor who was addressing him.</p><p>"Yes," he managed hoarsely.</p><p>"I understand you're Sam's only family?"</p><p>Dean's eyes flicked to Michael. "Yes."</p><p>"And you're sick?"</p><p>Again, Dean looked at Michael – couldn't seem to help himself – and saw the kid – though, God, so not a kid any more – narrow his eyes, taking in Dean critically, too, now. Michael's mouth tightened unhappily at what he saw and, man, he looked like his aunt in that moment and Dean couldn't...</p><p>"Mr. Winchester?"</p><p>"Dean." Michael. Now right in front of Dean, hand on Dean's bicep, head dipping slightly to catch Dean's eyes and when had Michael gotten taller than Dean? Why did the kids around him insist on...</p><p>"Dean." Michael said it with an oddly sharp yet gentle tone, shook his arm slightly.</p><p>Dean blinked, coming back to himself. He hated that he kept fading out like that. "Sorry. Yeah. I feel like crap." When he looked at the doctor he saw the man was now looking at Michael in confusion.</p><p>"You know the Winchesters, Dr. McCrae?" The question was simply curious, and the rest of the little group had similar expressions on their faces.</p><p>
  <em>Doctor?</em>
</p><p>"Yes, sir. Dean and his brother are old friends of our family." Michael's hand was still wrapped lightly around Dean's arm, not letting go. He looked at Sam in the bed and shook his head. "I had no idea it was Sam when he came into the ER." Looked back at Dean. "It's been a long time."</p><p>"Well, do you want to fill in your friend while we continue with our rounds?"</p><p>"Sure. Thank you."</p><p>The doctor nodded and started toward the door. "Be sure you have Mr. Winchester follow protocols with his illness."</p><p>"Yes, sir, I will."</p><p>The grip on Dean's arm shifted. "C'mon, man," Michael said. "Sit down." He guided-slash-manhandled Dean toward a chair in a corner of the room, away from Sam. Dean did as he was told.</p><p>Michael maneuvered another chair close to Dean's and sat down, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.</p><p>"How sick are you?" he asked. "Saying you look like crap would be a massive understatement."</p><p>Dean shrugged. He didn't need to be told that. "How's Sam?"</p><p>Michael sighed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "His condition is serious, Dean. Surgery went well, so what could be fixed has been. But there's always a concern about infection with a compound fracture. And with the skull fracture..." He broke off, sighing again. "Well, at this point it's going to be a matter of waiting to see how he's functioning when he wakes up."</p><p>"How bad is his head?" Dean couldn't bring himself to say "brain injury."</p><p>Michael grimaced slightly. "That's really where the waiting and seeing is going to be important."</p><p>"How bad could it be?" Considering how things usually went for them, Dean figured he might as well be prepared.</p><p>Michael hesitated, then, "Given where the injury is, there may be issues with Sam's language and logic functions as well as some memory impairment."</p><p>Dean felt ice steal down his arms and legs. Sam with language and logic and memory impairment. He closed his eyes, drew in a shaky breath.</p><p>"Those are <em>possibilities</em>, Dean," Michael said calmly. "You asked how bad. We don't know yet how Sam's been impacted, OK? This is why we need to wait and see."</p><p>Dean nodded, opening his eyes. "Right," he said heavily.</p><p>"Good." Michael's eyes were running over Dean assessingly again. "Let's talk about you now," he said. "What are your symptoms?"</p><p>Dean sighed. Closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. There was no point in not coming clean any more. "Headache, sore throat, I hurt all over, can't stay awake." It took him a long minute to realize that Michael actually had a hand on Dean's forehead. "Stop." He moved his head sharply to dislodge Michael. Then groaned when the pain in his head exploded, squeezed his eyes tighter closed.</p><p>"Fever," Michael said, and Dean slitted his eyes open to glare. Michael's right hand then moved to his neck, left hand joining on the other side, pressing up under his jawline by his ears. "Your lymph nodes are swollen. I'm going to get a thermometer to see how bad your temp is." Michael stood. "Stay here," he ordered, pointing at Dean.</p><p>Like Dean had a choice. He shut his eyes again.</p><p>"Open your mouth."</p><p>Michael was back. Dean obeyed, though he didn't open his eyes, closing his lips around the thermometer as it was stuck under his tongue.</p><p>"Give me your finger." Michael was already taking Dean's hand, separating Dean's forefinger from the rest. There was a sharp jab.</p><p>"Ow!" Dean yelped, sitting up abruptly, thermometer falling out of his mouth. "What the hell, man?"</p><p>Michael scowled as he picked up the thermometer from Dean's lap and reset it. "Open."</p><p>"You need to work on your bedside manner," Dean complained before doing what he was told.</p><p>Michael ignored him. "I need a blood sample to be sure," he said, doing something with the little instrument he'd stabbed Dean with, "but I think it's possible you have mono."</p><p>It took Dean a second to process that. The thermometer beeped, and Dean took it out of his mouth. "What?"</p><p>"It doesn't happen much with old men like you," Michael said. "But it does sometimes." He looked at the thermometer. "101.4. Not too bad." He smiled slightly. "You haven't been kissing teenage girls, have you, you pervert?"</p><p>Dean didn't dignify that with an answer, just leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh. Because of course he would have mono with Sam laid up due to a house collapsing on him. Of course. "How would I even have gotten it?" he rasped.</p><p>"Hard to tell. Drinking after someone who has it. Sharing a toothbrush. Mono incubates in adults for over a month, so you may never know." Dean could hear the shrug in Michael's voice. "We should probably test Sam just in case."</p><p>Well, sure, Dean thought. Let's add mono to a brain injury for the kid.</p><p>The silence stretched out for a while and Dean had, frankly, almost fallen back asleep when Michael cleared his throat gingerly.</p><p>"Dean."</p><p>Dean opened his eyes.</p><p>"Sam's probably going to have a long road ahead of him and with you sick..." He gave Dean an uncertain look. "Is there anyone I can call? Maybe Mr. Singer...?"</p><p>Dean shook his head. "No." He rubbed a heavy hand over his face. "Bobby... Bobby died a few years ago," he told Michael.</p><p>Michael met Dean's eyes soberly, sadness and sympathy there, understanding. "I'm so sorry," he said sincerely.</p><p>It had been years – <em>years</em> – since Bobby had died, but Dean felt an unexpected tightening in his chest at the simple statement from someone who knew him and who'd known Bobby, who knew what Bobby had meant to him and to Sam. Dean thought maybe Michael's was the first expression of human sympathy he'd received since Bobby's death.</p><p>He cleared his throat. "Thanks," he managed.</p><p>Michael didn't say anything for a while. "What...," he hesitated. "What would you think if I called Mom and Luke?" he asked. "They'd want to know, want to help. If you'd let them."</p><p>It's not like Dean couldn't have anticipated that Michael would suggest that. Of course he would. Because that's what this family did. Took in sick, wounded strangers and treated them like they belonged. That's what they'd done over ten years ago when he and Sam had first landed on their doorstep. What they'd continued to do until the life the Winchesters lived had taken them so far into the darkness there hadn't been any going back to the comfort they'd found with the Sweeds. At least it had felt that way.</p><p>When Dean didn't respond right away, Michael huffed out a breath. "I don't know why I'm even asking. It's not like either of us really have a choice. I have to tell Aunt Jo I saw you. And you know nothing in the 'verse is going to keep her from hightailing it down here."</p><p>Dean couldn't help the rueful smile in response. He did know that. And he sighed, looking over at Sam in the hospital bed.</p><p>But he didn't answer, couldn't quite wrap his head around seeing Michael again, being dropped back into the orbit of the family that had meant so much to him and Sam so long ago. That he knew they'd hurt and disappointed with their silence these last years.</p><p>"Unless... Unless you really don't want me to call."</p><p>Dean dragged his eyes back to Michael at the quiet offer.</p><p>"It's your choice," he said softly. "But, it would mean a lot to them – to us – if you'd let me do that. I won't force you, though, if you don't want." His elbows had been on his knees, and he dropped his head slightly. "I've always figured it must have been something...bad that kept y'all from coming back, from letting us know how you were doing," he whispered. Then his head came up, and his lips quirked in a small grin. "Jake googles y'all, you know. Every once in a while just to see if you pop up." His face sobered. "Mostly, I think, to see if you're dead. And I know Luke has checked for y'all in the databases he has access to." Michael glanced at Sam, didn't speak for a beat, and since Dean couldn't have spoken if he'd wanted to, the silence dragged out. Finally, "It's been hard not to know," Michael said, voice tight. He didn't look at Dean.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Dean said tiredly. And he was. More than he could say. "It <em>was</em> bad. For a long time. And we just couldn't..." he broke off, shook his head. "We just couldn't."</p><p>Michael turned to look at him and after a second, nodded – more sad understanding. "I'm sorry," he said again.</p><p>Dean drew in a shaky breath. "Yeah. Well." He looked over at Sam, still unmoving and unhelpful in terms of deciding what to do here.</p><p>Michael heaved a big sigh and stood. "Look. You don't have to decide right now, OK? But you should know, it's not going to matter to Mom or Luke. You do know that, right?" He waited until Dean turned to look at him. "We know your life is... what it is. We never thought y'all just decided we weren't important to you any more, OK? We knew – all of us knew – that it must have been something enormous to keep you away. But it still sucked." He gave a small smile. "We were <em>worried </em>about you, not ever mad." He paused. "OK, maybe Jake was a little mad."</p><p>Dean huffed out an uneven laugh. Ran a hand over his eyes that had gotten kinda damp over the last few minutes.</p><p>"We <em>love </em>y'all. And we only want to help in whatever way you'll let us." He reached over to grip Dean's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze and a gentle shake. "I'm going to run this to the lab. Stay here."</p><p>Dean nodded, then tipped his head against the back of the chair. And fell asleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Dean woke it was almost dark again. He struggled into a sitting position from where he'd been slouched down in the chair and blinked around trying to get his bearings. <em>What the hell?</em> He was really going to have to stop sitting if it meant he was going to lose hours every time he did so. He knuckled his eyes, trying to clear them of grit before turning his attention to where Sam lay in the hospital bed. He sat for a second trying to decide whether he should (and could) get out of the chair to check on his brother.</p><p>It took him longer than it should have to realize that there was someone sitting in the chair by Sam on the opposite side of the bed, watching Dean with a smirk on a face that was vaguely familiar.</p><p>Dean squinted. "Jake?"</p><p>"Hey, man."</p><p>Befuddled by the exhaustion dragging at his brain, Dean could only stare—another grown man where there'd been a boy the last time Dean had seen him. How was Jake even here? Had Michael gone ahead and called Jo even after saying it was Dean's choice? Had Dean told Michael to contact Jo, and he just didn't remember? He couldn't pull the information he needed out of his head.</p><p>In the meantime Jake had gotten up from where he'd been sitting, putting aside a hefty book before approaching Dean. Dean stared up at him.</p><p>Jake sat across from Dean in the chair Michael had vacated however many hours ago. "Don't worry," he said, somehow knowing what Dean's unspoken fear had been. "Michael hasn't called Aunt Jo. I live here; we're roommates." He gave Dean an exaggerated once-over. "You look like crap."</p><p>Breathing out a laugh, Dean held out a hand. "Damn, Jakey. When did you grow up?"</p><p>"Well, it's been awhile," Jake said dryly, taking the offered hand and shaking it. At Dean's slight wince, he added more warmly. "It's good to see you, Dean." He tipped his head at the hospital bed. "I'd ask how y'all have been doing, but the answer is pretty obvious."</p><p>"It's been a bad couple of days," Dean allowed. He looked at his brother and then back at Jake. "Did I miss anything?" he asked roughly, cleared his burning throat gingerly.</p><p>Jake shook his head. "No. He hasn't moved, and I've been here a couple of hours." He stood and reached for the little plastic pitcher that was in every single hospital Dean had ever visited. "How are you feeling?" He poured water into a cup and brought it back to Dean.</p><p>"Thanks," Dean said before taking a sip. The chilled water felt amazing on his aching throat. "Like I look," he admitted finally. "Michael said he thought I might have mono," he added with disgust.</p><p>"Yeah," Jake said. Evidently Michael was not so much about patient privacy when it came to the Winchesters and his family. "That kinda grosses me out, dude," he said. "You're way too old to be making out with teen-aged girls."</p><p>Annoyed and wondering how many times he was going to have to hear that particular dig, Dean chucked his now empty cup at the punk in front of him. The throw didn't have much force behind it, but Dean felt a glimmer of satisfaction when Jake wasn't fast enough to dodge the cup or catch it. The cup bounced off Jake's head, making a surprisingly graceful arc as it fell to the floor.</p><p>"Ow," Jake complained. He rubbed his forehead and bent over to retrieve the cup.</p><p>Turning his attention to other things – namely Sam – Dean hauled himself to his feet. The mask he'd been supposed to be wearing had slipped off his face while he slept, and he pulled it up awkwardly over his mouth as he made his way toward the bed. He came up along the side where Jake had been sitting and glanced at the book Jake had placed on the bed next to the leg of Sam's that wasn't broken.</p><p>"Civil Procedure?" he looked at Jake.</p><p>The kid shrugged. "Law school."</p><p>"Huh."</p><p>Dean didn't touch Sam, careful because of the possibility of infection, just looked him over. The swelling of Sam's face had gone down some, though it was still puffy, bruises and scrapes continuing to make him look not quite like himself. The skin under the obvious injuries was gray and his lips were pale, chapped and painful looking.</p><p>"You didn't talk to any doctors while I was out?" he asked Jake.</p><p>Jake shook his head. "They won't talk to me, man. They know I'm not related. And Michael hasn't been by while I've been here." He hesitated. "Someone did come by asking about insurance, though."</p><p>Dean nodded. "Yeah, okay."</p><p>Jake didn't pursue it, but Dean read the uncertainty and curiosity on his face. Dean shrugged. "We got something set up a little while ago just in case... well, just in case something like this happened. Where it was so bad we couldn't skip out."</p><p>Jake nodded, relieved. "Have you got the information on you? I can go find the woman who came by about it."</p><p>Dean nodded, shakily reaching for the wallet in his back pocket before remembering he didn't actually have the card on him. "It's back at the motel," he sighed. They tended to keep that information separate from the rest of their identification.</p><p>"Where are you staying? I can go get it," Jake offered. "Or maybe I could take you back to your room, and you could, you know, shower or something."</p><p>Dean huffed out a laugh. "Are you implying I stink?" Dean didn't have any doubts about that himself.</p><p>"No implication necessary. You absolutely stink."</p><p>With a vague smile at the comment, Dean thought about it. He hadn't showered or shaved in days. Getting cleaned up would actually be something of a relief. Maybe a shower would clear his head. Or at least make him feel less slimy. But he wanted to talk to the doctor, see what...</p><p>"Hey. You're awake." Michael swung into the room, a young woman in a business suit following.</p><p>Jake tipped his head at the woman. "Insurance," he said to Dean.</p><p>"Oh, yeah, right." Dean shuffled carefully around the bed. "I actually don't have our insurance card with me. We were just talking about that. I need to ..."</p><p>The woman's eyes had narrowed somewhat when she'd seen Dean, taking in the mask over the bottom half of his face and the rest of his rumpled appearance. "I hate to keep coming by," she said, falsely apologetic and clearly annoyed. "We need to have that information as soon as possible, so we can make sure billing is taken care of. I'm on my way out right now, and I was hoping..."</p><p>"We understand." Jake stepped up, sliding in between Dean and the administrator. "I'm going to go get that as soon as we find out how Sam is doing. If you'll give me your office number, I'll be glad to drop it by. If you're headed home, should I slip it under your door? Or can I get it to you first thing in the morning?"</p><p>"I guess tomorrow morning would be fine," conceded the woman somewhat grudgingly, pulling a card out of her pocket. "I do need the information soon because..."</p><p>"Of course," Jake cut her off smoothly, angling her out the door. "What time do you get here in the morning? I'll..."</p><p>Dean didn't hear the end of the conversation as Jake left the room, looking like he was actually escorting the woman all the way out of the ICU.</p><p>"He's good," Dean commented to Michael.</p><p>Michael shook his head. "You have no idea. Somewhere along the line he's developed quite the ability to get people to do what he wants them to do without their even realizing it."</p><p>Dean huffed a quiet laugh. <em>Yeah. Somewhere along the line...</em> "That's a handy skill for a lawyer."</p><p>Michael just smiled, moving toward Sam's bed. He glanced at the white board on the wall that indicated when vitals had last been taken and what medications had been administered when. He then looked at what seemed to be a chart in his hand.</p><p>"How's he doing?" Dean asked.</p><p>"About how we'd expect. The pressure on his brain is at good levels, and the antibiotics seems to be doing their job at preventing an infection in his leg, though we'll keep an eye on that."</p><p>Dean moved up alongside Michael. "Should he be awake by now?" He couldn't stop the automatic reach toward his brother, though he managed to keep himself from touching, tugged the light blanket smooth over Sam instead.</p><p>"Not necessarily," Michael said. "Look, it's not unusual for this level of brain injury to result in several days of unconsciousness. I don't think there's any reason to worry about that quite yet, OK?"</p><p>Dean nodded. He was somewhat reassured.</p><p>"So." Michael flipped the chart closed. "Let's talk about you."</p><p>"Did you tell him?"</p><p>Dean startled somewhat. Jake had snuck up behind Dean without him realizing it.</p><p>"Not yet." Michael looked at Dean. "You do have mono."</p><p>Dean groaned.</p><p>"Though Sam doesn't."</p><p>Well, that was good news.</p><p>"You're also coming to stay with us," Jake added. He reached across the bed to snag his book, shoving it into a backpack Dean hadn't noticed before.</p><p>Dean turned to Jake and opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but sure that was not going to happen. "I don't ..."</p><p>"Shut up," said Jake, cutting him off and hitching his backpack onto his shoulders. "We have an extra bedroom; we're close to the hospital; and it's stupid for you to pay for a motel room when you're going to be up here most of the time anyway." He picked up Dean's jacket and started rummaging through the pockets. He'd pulled out the car keys before Dean was able to register what the kid was doing. "Do you want to go with me to the motel to get your stuff or should I just get the insurance card and pack y'all up myself?" Jake looked at Michael. "He shouldn't stay here, should he? Sam's not liable to wake up overnight, is he? And if he does you'll be here anyway. So yeah. Never mind." He thrust the coat into Dean's hands. "Come on."</p><p>Things were moving too fast for Dean's over-tired brain to process, and he accepted the jacket reflexively, not protesting immediately when Jake actually took it back and started to help him into it.</p><p>Though he did jerk clumsily away when he realized what was happening. "I'm not a kid, dude," he said sulkily.</p><p>"In case you missed it, Dean," Michael said, "Jake has developed alarming mothering tendencies since you last saw him."</p><p>"You shut up, too," Jake said, one hand on Dean's elbow, steering him toward the door. "Call us if anything changes on Sam, OK?"</p><p>"Will do." Michael settled into the chair next to Sam's bed, pulling out a stack of paperwork before propping his feet up and getting to work.</p><p>Dean found himself out of the room and down the hall before he'd really grasped what had happened.</p><p>"I thought we weren't allowed to say 'shut up,'" he offered, about two steps behind the conversation, as he was tugged along after Jake, dragging his feet somewhat, limited in his ability to register his reluctance.</p><p>Jake hummed a vague acknowledgement that Dean had spoken, tightening his grip on Dean's arm. "Keep moving."</p><hr/><p>It was amazing what a shower and twelve hours sleeping in a bed did for a person. Dean was still moving slowly and aching, but he didn't feel like road-kill anymore. At least for the moment. Michael had warned him that the only thing to do for mono was treat the symptoms and let the virus run its course. The symptoms would likely come and go to one degree or another based on how much rest he got. Dean figured he'd better take advantage of the little bit of energy he had and planned to grab a bowl of cereal – if he could stomach it – before heading back to the hospital.</p><p>Showered (again) and dressed, Dean sat at the somewhat battered kitchen table in the house Michael and Jake's shared. The table looked familiar, and he finally realized that it had been in the kitchen in the old apartment attached to the diner where he and Sam had first met Jo and her family. It was oddly comforting to Dean that the table was still around.</p><p>"You don't want coffee?" Jake was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved white t-shirt with "Texas Law" emblazoned across it. He slung his backpack into one of the chairs and looked at the fancy, empty coffee maker.</p><p>"I couldn't figure out how to make the damn thing give me any," Dean said, disgruntled. He'd tried to get the coffee started, but been defeated when it required more than just putting grounds in the filter and filling the water tank. Plus the showering and walking to the kitchen from the bedroom had worn him out.</p><p>Jake rolled his eyes and got the thing working before turning back to Dean. "Are you eating?"</p><p>"I was going to get some cereal," he said. After he'd rested for a while from the strenuous activity of taking a shower, putting his clothes on, and staring at the uncooperative coffee maker.</p><p>"Do you want eggs?" Jake asked. He'd opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton.</p><p>Dean thought about it. The idea didn't make him feel nauseous. He still accepted somewhat uneasily. "I guess."</p><p>"If you're not up for eating them when they're done, I'll eat 'em," Jake said, understanding the hesitation, cracking eggs into a bowl.</p><p>"OK." Dean put his head down on the table. <em>Damn</em>. That surge of energy hadn't lasted very long.</p><p>"Here."</p><p>Dean blinked and raised his head as Jake put a plate in front of him and held out a fork. Dean took the fork, studying the eggs, deciding whether he was going to eat or not.</p><p>"You should eat those." Michael now. He sat in the chair across from Dean. "I know it may not seem all that appetizing, but you need the food."</p><p>"Coffee." Jake reached out to give Dean a mug, but was intercepted by Michael, who extended an arm over the table to take the coffee before Dean could get a hand on it.</p><p>"Yeah. No." Michael took a sip out of the mug, ignoring Dean's grunt of protest. "You need to avoid coffee and alcohol," he added. He turned to his brother. "Me?" he asked.</p><p>"Fine." Jake dropped the second plate of eggs in front of Michael before heading back to the fridge.</p><p>"Thanks, Jakey."</p><p>Dean got lost for a moment staring morosely at Michael drinking his coffee.</p><p>"Eat, Dean." Michael jiggled the plate gently, and, grumbling, Dean complied.</p><p>When Jake finally joined them, the three men ate in companionable silence. Dean munched vaguely on the toast Jake had dropped on his plate at some point during the meal and drank the glass of water Michael had pressed on him with, "You need to stay hydrated."</p><p>By the time all three of them were finished, Dean just wanted to get back in bed again. The thought of getting out of the chair and driving himself to the hospital left him feeling exhausted. He sighed. But it had to be done. Pushing out of his seat, Dean carried his dishes to the sink.</p><p>"Where are my keys?" he asked Jake, who had driven him to the motel and back to the house the night before.</p><p>"In my pocket," said Jake.</p><p>Dean held out his hand.</p><p>"I don't think so." Michael this time, getting up from the table and taking his and Jake's plates to the counter.</p><p>"What?" Dean asked.</p><p>"Michael and I have decided that you shouldn't be driving," Jake said.</p><p>They were tag-teaming him. Jake stood, grabbing his backpack and shrugging it over his shoulders.</p><p>"What?" Dean said again.</p><p>"We'll take you back and forth for now," Michael said in what Dean was sure the kid considered to be a reasonable tone of voice.</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Dean glared at both of them, hands curling into fists.</p><p>"You wanna fight me for the keys?" Jake asked, sounding strangely delighted. He'd dropped his backpack on the floor and was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet, raising his fists – one still holding the keys – as he ducked and weaved, a smirk on his face, thinking Dean was too weak to engage in such a match.</p><p>Dean stared for a long moment, then sagged his shoulders. Like he was giving in. Jake dropped the play and moved closer, into Dean's space, thinking he'd won. The sucker actually put a consoling hand on Dean's shoulder.</p><p>And Dean swept his leg into Jake's, knocking the kid on his butt. Before Jake could recover, Dean had bent down and jerked the keys from Jake's lax fingers, holding his prize aloft in his victory. Then he staggered backward, dizzied by the sudden movement and change in location of his aching head. He felt the keys plucked out his hand as Michael caught him before he fell.</p><p>"Nice try, man," Michael said, easing Dean into a lean against the wall before turning to pull Jake to his feet.</p><p>Dean slid the rest of the way to the ground, holding his pounding head in his hands. It was more than a little tempting to just let himself topple slowly to the side so he wouldn't have to struggle even to stay upright.</p><p>"Let us do this, okay?" Michael handed the keys to Jake and crouched down in front of Dean. "The less energy you expend on getting to and from the hospital – and fighting us – the better you'll be able to use the little energy you do have when you see Sam."</p><p>It sounded so reasonable when it was said like that. Dean nodded his capitulation gingerly, head still resting in his hands.</p><p>"Good."</p><p>There was the sound of movement around the room and when Dean finally raised his head, Jake was standing in front of him, backpack on again. He reached down a hand, and Dean grasped it, letting himself be pulled to his feet.</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>Michael handed him his coat. "Call me if you need to come home, OK? Jake's going to bring the truck back here after he's dropped you and the insurance card off. If I don't hear from you, I'll see you when I'm on shift later today."</p><p>"Yeah. OK," Dean agreed and followed Jake out to the truck.</p><p>It was a gorgeous day, the sky a bright blue and the air pleasantly cool. Jake cranked down the windows on both sides of the cab saying that after the heat they'd endured through the summer and early fall, he didn't mind being a little cold. Dean hadn't minded it either, the breeze through the windows feeling nice on his warm face. He leaned his head back against the headrest, letting his eyes ease shut and mind drift, Jake mostly quiet beside him, occasionally singing along softly with whatever was on the radio.</p><p>Jake pulled up to the entrance of the hospital to let Dean out before using Michael's parking pass to get into the garage.</p><p>"I'm not coming up to the room," Jake said. "I've got class, so I'm headed out after I drop this off." He waved the insurance card at Dean.</p><p>"I could...," Dean started.</p><p>"Nope," Jake said. "Get out."</p><p>Dean climbed down from the truck. "Thanks," he said, speaking through the window after he'd shut the door. "Again."</p><p>"Have I told you to shut up recently?" Jake asked with mock-seriousness. He waved. "See you later."</p><p>Dean stood for a minute, watching Jake drive away. It had been a long, long time since he and Sam had had any kind of back up. And as usual Dean was torn between being incredibly thankful for the support and being equally embarrassed that they required any help at all.</p><p>Dean made his way up to the fifth floor of the hospital, nodding his thanks at the nurse who buzzed him in. Now that he had a definitive diagnosis of mono, the hospital staff was willing to let him in without a hazmat suit. Mono was passed via saliva and since Dean didn't plan on sharing utensils with or frenching his brother or anyone else in the unit, he'd been passed.</p><p>Dean greeted Sam as he entered and the morning nurse gave Dean the update – no change really, though Sam did seem to be getting closer to the surface of his light coma, which was encouraging.</p><p>The reclining chair was wedged between Sam's bed and the window, angled toward the foot of the bed and the television mounted on the wall. Dean eased himself into it before aiming the remote at TV. He flipped through the available channels and clicked it off. Morning television didn't ever not suck.</p><p>Dean sighed and leaned back in the chair. He still hadn't made a definite decision about calling Jo and Luke and neither Michael nor Jake had pressed him on it this morning. Truthfully, Dean wasn't sure why he hadn't already just said "no" about the call.</p><p>Dean was familiar and agreed with all the reasons that supported not bothering Jo and Luke. Winchesters had never been good at asking for or accepting help. When he and Sam had been growing up, Dad had only ever relied on Bobby and that reliance had been sporadic, times when Dad had been truly desperate. After Dad's death, Dean and Sam had relied on Bobby to a degree that Dean hadn't been comfortable with at times; but they'd gotten used to it until, by the time Bobby had been killed, it hadn't seemed at all strange to think of Bobby as a father of sorts. And the ache of that loss still felt like a blow at times. Common sense and history said not to call, not to get sucked back into relationships where there was the danger of hurting and being hurt.</p><p>And yet. Dean couldn't seem to bring himself to just pull the trigger and tell Michael that he didn't want Jo and Luke called.</p><p>It had been just him and Sam for so long now. When God had returned and put heaven (and hell) back in order, Cas had gone home. The angel still popped in occasionally, but his focus was elsewhere, and Dean got that.</p><p>So Dean and Sam, just the two of them, on their own, in the aftermath, had gone back to basics – saving people, hunting things. They still used the Men of Letters bunker as a home base, but they spent most of their time on the road, looking into the unexplained, whether it was an urban legend or the occasional demon that needed its ass sent back to hell.</p><p>If Dean sometimes felt restless or discontented, wondering if this would be what they did until they died, Dean figured most people felt that way about their lives at one point or another. And if Sam sometimes seemed distant or withdrawn, unwilling to engage with Dean outside of the demands of the job for days at a time, Dean figured that was probably normal, too. They lived in each other's back pockets. Of course there were times when they needed to be alone. And if Sam felt that need more often than Dean did, well, so be it. What they had worked, and given what they'd been through, Dean thought that just having each other should probably be enough.</p><p>But the thing was, in just the last 24 hours, Dean knew he was already being sucked back in, actually already <em>had </em>been sucked back in—back into relationship, back into caring and being cared for. Plus, there was something about not being on your own in the middle of a crisis. He might have chafed against being bossed around by the McCrae boys, but there was comforting about it, as well. There was no getting around that.</p><p>Almost of its own volition, Dean's hand reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Hesitantly, he found the number he wanted and stared at it for a long time before hitting "call." His stomach churned as he waited, tempted to hang up and not...</p><p>"Hello?"</p><p>It took him a second to speak. He cleared his throat.</p><p>"Hey, Jo," he faltered. "It's Dean."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jo tossed some long-sleeved t-shirts into her bag before moving to the dresser to start sorting through clothes for Luke. The shirts landed on top of the cat that was investigating her opened luggage suspiciously. He meowed disapprovingly at her.</p><p>"Sorry, Pip," she said with a smile, attention now on the cat. The orange tabby's head poked out from under the fabric and narrowed his eyes at her. She leaned over to smooth a hand over his ears, and he stretched up into the caress. His brother stepped carefully into the bag and began to make biscuits in her jeans, purring deeply. Jo scooped both cats out the duffle and dropped them on the floor next to D-dog who was watching both the cats and the packing unhappily. The old dog had adjusted to the feline additions to the family with the equanimity the Sweeds had anticipated from him, but he certainly didn't approve of the greater freedom they enjoyed on the furniture and beds. Though given how much time the dog spent on Tommy's bed, Jo wasn't sure he had much cause for complaint.</p><p>"Oh, don't give me that look," Jo said when D-dog turned mournful eyes on her. Ignoring the facts that both cats had just jumped back onto the bed, she bent down to give him a consoling pat. He knew what it meant when the suitcases came out. "You know you love it when Marge comes to feed you." He generally gained a couple of pounds when they were out of town. This would be the first time they'd left the cats for longer than a couple of nights.</p><p>Jo turned back to Luke's drawers, opening one to see what was clean. First one cat and then the other made the jump from the bed to the dresser drawer. With a sigh of exasperation, she picked them both up and dropped them back on the floor. Pippen crouched down, intent to jump back into the drawer clear from the way his rear end shimmied from side to side. Jo used her foot to shift him away and break his focus. He wandered off like that had always been his plan</p><p>"Mom!" Tommy's shout had Jo moving to the door of the bedroom. D-dog followed her, then trotted off to Tommy. The cats trailed after the dog for a couple of steps before chasing each other through his legs and into the boys' room.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"How long will we be there?" Tommy, tall and ridiculously skinny in the wake of his latest growth spurt, stood in the hallway, jeans just a hair too short, holding a stack of shirts. Merry had made the jump from the floor to Tommy's shoulder and was balanced there precariously. The boy lifted a hand to run over the cat's back.</p><p>Jo had pulled Tommy out of school at noon due to a "family emergency" and was hoping they could get on the road in the next hour or so. Luke was getting things in order at the sheriff's office and should be home within the half-hour.</p><p>"You'll have to be back for school on Wednesday for your English test, so..." she counted mentally, "five days? You'll be home Tuesday night." At this point she wasn't sure whether she'd still be needed in Austin, but Luke would have to be back himself so he could bring Tommy home.</p><p>"What English test?" Tommy sounded affronted. "I just turned in that report on..."</p><p>"The one you're making up because you <em>forgot</em> about the test on Pride and Prejudice. The one Mrs. Grayson is graciously allowing you to take again," she reminded him more sharply than she'd intended.</p><p>"Oh," he said. "Right."</p><p>"Yeah. 'Oh,'" she muttered to herself as she moved back into her room. "And don't forget to pack that book," she called as she approached the dresser again.</p><p>"Do we still have that movie you used to make us watch all the time?" Tommy shouted from his room. "Maybe I could just watch it in the car on the way," he suggested. "That way I wouldn't have to..."</p><p>"Pack the book!" Jo yelled, trying to keep her temper.</p><p>"But..."</p><p>"Pack the book." Luke's voice echoed down the hall.</p><p>"But I thought that movie was supposed to..."</p><p>Luke entered their room, and Jo grabbed two fistfuls of hair, pulling them away from her head while she opened her mouth in a silent scream.</p><p>"Tommy!" Luke barked. "What did <em>both</em> of us <em>just</em> say?"</p><p>"Fine!"</p><p>The sound of large feet stomping around the boys' room drifted down the hall. And Jo thought she heard the flutter of book pages rustling as she imagined her well-used copy of Pride and Prejudice being hurled into Tommy's backpack. She gritted her teeth against another outburst of frustration with her youngest as the cats skittered back into their room, disapproving of the commotion Tommy was making. They dashed over the bed before zooming to the top of the dresser, skidding across it, knocking over a couple of framed photos, tumbling over the side, landing on top of each other and then scampering under the bed.</p><p>"Maybe I can watch the movie?" Jo asked plaintively. "I'll sit in the back with headphones on and you can deal with him for the drive?"</p><p>"Not gonna happen," Luke said, righting the frames. "I'm not suffering alone." He nudged her gently out of his way, pulling clothes out of his drawers and lobbing them at his own bag.</p><p>Tommy had always been such a sweet, agreeable child and that was certainly still true – sometimes – of his teenaged self. But he was also, both Jo and Luke had realized recently, used to being protected and hand-held through his very sheltered (kidnapping by a demon-possessed neighbor several years before aside) life. It came, Jo thought, from being the baby and being so much younger than his older brothers. She'd done significantly more for Tommy than she ever had for Michael or Jake, who had had to step up and help when she'd found herself a single mother of three boys after their parents had died. When Luke had joined the family that burden had lifted some from the older boys, but by that time Jo's expectations for them were pretty set. And with two parents and two older brothers running interference for him, Tommy had been, well, spoiled. It hurt Jo in her practical, no-nonsense heart to admit this, but there it was.</p><p>With this being Tommy's senior year and college looming on the horizon, Jo and Luke were making a concerted effort to let Tommy be responsible for his own schedule and school work. It was not going well.</p><p>"I don't understand why you won't just remind me," Tommy had complained after failing his English test earlier in the week because he'd found himself writing essays about a book he hadn't read. How that was possible given the fact that all his friends were in the same class and prepared, Jo couldn't comprehend. She knew he talked to people – good Lord, did she know he talked to people – but somehow, incomprehensively, school work hadn't come up in the hundreds of texts he exchanged with his classmates each day.</p><p>"Because," Luke had said with strained patience, again, "you have to learn how to keep track of these things on your own, kiddo. Mom and I aren't going to be around to ride you about studying when you go away to school next year."</p><p>"If I live with Jake, <em>he</em> will," Tommy had said with a sly smile at Jo.</p><p>"If you can get into UT with your grades slipping because you're forgetting tests," Jo had responded sharply.</p><p>Tommy had pouted. "What do I do?"</p><p>"You need to go talk to Mrs. Grayson and see what she says," Jo had suggested without much hope. Cecilia Grayson was one of the toughest teachers at the high school – both of the older boys had had her and hated/loved her. "If she won't let you make it up, you're just going to have to accept the consequences."</p><p>Jo had had to restrain herself from making the call to see if Cecilia would relent just this once. Tommy needed to be the one to deal with the ramifications of his carelessness. It just sucked that Jo was going to have to suffer along with him.</p><p>The next afternoon, when Tommy had careened into the diner, he'd crowed, "Mrs. Grayson said I could make up the test next week!"</p><p>Because of course she had. For all the boy's flakiness, Tommy could charm the socks off anyone he came into contact with. Though, if it had ever come down to it, Jo had to admit, the other two boys could probably have managed the same feat themselves. But Michael would never have forgotten the test in the first place, and Jake would have stubbornly refused to ask for leniency if he had. Truthfully it was Tommy's combination of carelessness and charm that was beginning to concern Jo.</p><p>But she'd just rolled her eyes at his gloating.</p><p>And Tommy had promptly forgotten. Which was why she was – again – hounding him about his school work.</p><p>When he finally slunk into their room with his backpack slung over his shoulder, he leaned against the doorjamb and said, "I'm ready."</p><p>Jo forced herself to smile as she turned to him; she was always too willing to hold on to grudges when she had an argument with one of the boys.</p><p>"Good." She cocked her head to one side. "Maybe we should take the movie with us," she allowed. "We could force Dean and Sam to watch it. After you've read the book."</p><p>Tommy made a face at the condition attached, but then he grinned. "Like we did with Anne of Green Gables."</p><p>Jo waggled her eyebrows at him.</p><p>"I'll go get it!" he said excitedly and turned to lope off.</p><p>"Put your backpack in the car," Luke called after him. "And grab that HEB bag!"</p><p>"OK!"</p><p>Thundering down the stairs.</p><p>"How sick is Dean?" Luke asked with a slight grin. "The poor kid had almost died the time we forced Anne of Green Gables on him."</p><p>Jo sighed. "Well, Jake says it's mono, so. Dean sounded horrible on the phone, but of course, wouldn't actually answer me when I asked about how <em>he</em> was doing."</p><p>She'd literally dropped her phone when she'd heard, "It's Dean." She'd scrambled desperately for the phone, accidentally kicking it across the floor before she'd been able to get her hands on it and put it to her ear.</p><p>"Dean?" she'd known she'd sounded breathless. And she had been.</p><p>"Hi. Yeah." He'd sounded a little short of breath himself. "How are you doing? It's been a while, I know. I'm sorry about that."</p><p>"That's OK, that's OK," she'd hurried to reassure him. "How are you? Are you OK? We've missed you!" The words had tumbled out of her mouth in a rush like she was afraid she might not get a chance to say them to him again.</p><p>There was a moment of silence where Jo was terrified she'd said too much and scared him off. "Dea-"</p><p>"So. Guess who we ran into yesterday?"</p><p>Jo had blinked at the non sequitor. Evidently Dean wasn't going to respond to her questions. "Um. I don't know?" she'd offered.</p><p>"Michael. And Jake."</p><p>"Are you in Austin?" Jo asked, delighted.</p><p>"Yeah. We're on a job."</p><p>"Oh!" So they were going to have this conversation like it hadn't been years since they'd last heard from the Winchesters. OK, she'd thought. <em>I can do that.</em> "Where did you see them?"</p><p>"Funny thing." He'd cleared his throat, and Jo had realized, finally recovering from the shock at hearing his voice, that he'd sounded terrible. "Uh. It was at the hospital. When did Michael become a doctor?"</p><p>And yeah. She hadn't been willing to ignore that one. "At the hospital?" Why hadn't she heard this from Michael? "Are you OK?"</p><p>"Yeah. I'm fine." <em>Liar</em>. "Sam had a, uh, an accident."</p><p>"An accident? What kind of accident?" Surely Michael would have called if it had been bad.</p><p>"A house kind of fell on him."</p><p>"A house?" Jo hadn't been able to keep the horror out of her voice. "Dean, what is going on? Do you need us? We can be there in a few hours."</p><p>There'd had been an odd strangled sound – a choked, disbelieving laugh – on the other end of the phone, and Jo had felt her throat close up in response.</p><p>There'd been a long stretch of silence.</p><p>"Why would you do that?" Dean's voice had been vague, hoarse and quiet, exhaustion seeping through. "We haven't..." He'd trailed off, hadn't finished the thought.</p><p>Jo had forced herself to take a few deep breaths and think about what to say. She'd known that for the question to even have been asked, for it to have slipped past Dean's defenses, Dean would have had to be at the utter end of himself – beyond that point actually.</p><p>Finally, she'd said, "Dean, would you come to us if you knew we needed you? No matter how long it had been?" She'd asked the questions as gently as she could, and she'd accepted the shaken breath he'd taken as his answer. "We feel the same way about you and Sam. Where else would we be?"</p><p>He hadn't responded directly – of course – but had seemed willing to accept that they would be on their way. The rest of the conversation had been short and had ended with Jo saying she'd see him soon.</p><p>She hadn't tried to get any more information out of him. She'd known she wouldn't be successful.</p><p>And she had other sources.</p><p>Jo had turned on the computer, opening her Gmail. There had been a little green dot next to Jake's name, meaning he was available for chat. Though he shouldn't have been. He should be in class. And paying attention. But for once Jo hadn't been going to comment on the delusion her children had that they could "multi-task."</p><p>"Why didn't you tell me about Dean and Sam?" she had typed in the little box in the lower right-hand corner of the browser window.</p><p>Jake hadn't responded immediately, then, "tell you what about them"</p><p>"I just talked to Dean, you wretched child."</p><p>"cant class"</p><p>"That isn't going to save you this time, buddy. How bad is it?"</p><p>"it's not good."</p><p>Jo had waited for more, but it hadn't come.</p><p>"What does that mean?"</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>"Jake."</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>"Jake."</p><p>"Jake."</p><p>"Jakejakejakejakejakejakejakejakejakejake..."</p><p>
  <em> Jake is typing... </em>
</p><p>"You better be, young man," Jo had muttered to herself.</p><p>"omgosh settle down woman i'm in class and got called on. a house fell on sam and he's got a skull fracture as well as a compound fracture of his thigh. *emoticon of a little yellow head puking* plus dean's got mono."</p><p>It had taken Jo a minute to catch her breath.</p><p>"How bad is the skull fracture? Do we know yet?"</p><p>"no. michael says we won't really know until sam wakes up."</p><p>"How is Dean doing?"</p><p>"wait"</p><p>Jo had, tapping her foot impatiently.</p><p>"sorry. dean is falling asleep whenever he sits down and trying to pretend that he's fine so the usual."</p><p>"We're coming."</p><p>"i figured. dean's in the guest room. i'll bunk with mikey and you can have my room. tommy?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"couch"</p><p>"I'm going to get packed. Love you. See you soon."</p><p>"text when you're on the road drive safe"</p><p>That had been just a few hours ago, and it was hard for Jo to really grasp that by this evening she would be seeing the Winchesters again. However Dean was doing, whatever shape Sam might be in, she'd be able to see for herself shortly. She sniffed and swiped a finger under one eye. Stupid tears.</p><p>"Here," said Luke. He handed her Merry, who was purring throatily, and pushed her gently out of the room. "Indulge in some cat therapy while I finish getting us packed."</p><p>"Okay," Jo sniffled, rubbing her face in the cat's fur, and wandered downstairs.</p><p>She put the cat down when she got to the kitchen, feeling much better in the wake of carrying an armful of happy cat around the house for a little while. She'd stuck her head into the room that had always been the Winchesters' to see what needed to be done to make it habitable again in case Dean and Sam needed a longer landing place than Michael and Jake could provide. It wasn't too bad in there; the room had served its secondary purpose well over the years by housing numerous friends the older boys had brought home with them from school or, during the time Jake had worked, the office. Jo had always felt a little bittersweet dusting the furniture and washing sheets for friends that were not the Winchesters, but she'd also always been glad to have the space when they needed it.</p><p>Jo sat at the kitchen table after grabbing a notepad and a pencil from one of the drawers and got to work on some lists. Tommy joined her a couple of minutes later, adding items to the grocery list and groaning at the list she was making of things that needed to be done before Dean and Sam got to the house. If they did.</p><p>"Why can't we just stack the boxes in a corner?" he asked when he saw one of the tasks was moving all the boxes out of the room in to the shed. "Sam and Dean aren't going to mind if we've got some stuff stored in there."</p><p>Jo didn't bother to answer him, adding, "Have Tommy organize all the boxes by contents before he moves them to the shed" then "Have Tommy paint the room" to the list.</p><p>Tommy just snorted. "Fine," he agreed with a laugh, reaching for her hand to try to make her scratch out the last items. Jo smiled as she erased. "I knew you'd see in my way," she said smugly.</p><p>Luke dropped bags on the floor next to the table, glancing at the lists Jo was working on. "You know the boys are going to have a lot of that stuff already on hand," he said.</p><p>"I know. I just wanted to get it down while I was thinking of what I was going to need. I'll adjust when we get there." Jo made one last note to herself before dropping both the pad and the pencil into her purse. "Are we ready?" she asked.</p><p>"Let's go," said Luke.</p><hr/><p>"So." Jake dropped his backpack with a solid thunk on the floor next to one of the chairs that had been dragged into Sam's room. Dean startled upright. "I guess you decided we could tell Jo and Luke about Sam," Jake said in a disgruntled voice. "I got bawled out via g-chat during class this morning for not letting Mom know."</p><p>Dean sat up more straightly and ran a heavy hand over his face. "Yeah. Sorry, man. I just figured I should probably be the one to call." He gave Jake a rueful smile. "Didn't think about the consequences for you and Michael on that, I guess."</p><p>"Well," Jake said grudgingly. "You're sick and you haven't been around in a while to remember what she can be like," he went on. "So..." Jake wandered over to Sam's bed to check on him.</p><p>Dean felt an internal wince at Jake's casual mention of their not being around. He hadn't really addressed that with Jake, though he and Michael had touched on it briefly initially.</p><p>"Hey, Jake," Dean started. Jake turned, face nothing more than curious. "About our not being around. I..."</p><p>Jake's face shuttered immediately, and he turned back to Sam. "Don't worry about it," he said dismissively.</p><p>All Dean wanted to do was follow Jake's instruction and not worry about it. But he knew from bitter experience that too often dealing with an issue by ignoring it was a recipe for disaster. As much as he hated to admit it.</p><p>"Yeah, the thing is, I think I do need worry about it. I <em>have </em>worried about it. Sam has, too."</p><p>Jake's head came around slowly, listening.</p><p>"Things were... bad—really bad—for a long time after we last saw you." Dean cleared his throat, trying to decide how much to say. "We, uh, both of us, Sam and me, we went places in the dark we never..." Dean's eyes went to Sam in the bed, settled there. "We couldn't...we couldn't bring that to you. We couldn't drag you guys down into the... the evil we were wrapped up in. And then when things finally did get better, it had been so long, so much had happened to us and we weren't the same... We just... We couldn't..." Dean closed his eyes, huffing out a weak laugh. Well, that had been...disjointed. He sighed, opening his eyes to take in the kid he was trying to apologize to. "I'm sorry. We..."</p><p>But Jake was shaking his head, expression regretful in the early afternoon light. "Don't, Dean. Really."</p><p>Jake hesitated, and Dean wasn't sure what was coming next.</p><p>Jake took a slow step forward, one hand resting lightly on the foot of Sam's bed. "You don't need to apologize. In fact, I'm sorry," he said, with a rueful smile. "I, uh, may have taken it a little personally when we didn't hear from y'all. But." He shook his head again. "I know it took a lot to keep you away." His brow wrinkled slightly as he paused. "And I guess I'm sorry y'all had to go through all that on your own."</p><p>Dean opened his mouth to say... something...</p><p>Sam made an unhappy sound and his uncasted leg shifted restlessly.</p><p>Dean jumped – to the extent he could – from the chair and staggered to the bed. "Sam?"</p><p>Sam's eyes were fluttering, his forehead crinkling in confusion or pain as his head moved uneasily on the pillow.</p><p>"Ungh," mumbled Sam.</p><p>Dean's eyes went to Jake's, and Jake moved toward the door, calling for help.</p><p>"Hey, man." Dean put a hand lightly on Sam's chest, not trying to hold him down, but wanting to reassure. "You're in the hospital, Sam, okay? You're going to be alright."</p><p>One of the nurses hurried into the room. She skirted Dean and the bed, approaching Sam on the opposite side. "Hey, honey," she said to Sam and his face turned toward her. "That's good." She looked at Dean in surprise. "He's responding to the different voices around him. That's really good."</p><p>Dean swallowed heavily, nodding in relief. "Okay."</p><p>Sam's head turned back toward Dean.</p><p>"Now he may not wake completely right now," she cautioned, "but he's definitely close." The nurse checked a couple of the monitors and adjusted something on the IV drip. "I'll let Dr. Arnold know he's coming around." She gave Jake a smile. "I assume you'll let your brother know."</p><p>There was a sharp movement from the bed and everyone's attention refocused on Sam. Whose eyes flickered and opened.</p><p>"We've got a determined one," said the nurse.</p><p>"You have no idea," said Dean with a grin. "Hey, Sammy."</p><p>Sam blinked heavily at his brother and his eyes stuttered to Jake when he moved up beside Dean.</p><p>"Hey, Sammy," Jake said.</p><p>Sam's expression didn't register any recognition of the other man. He stared groggily for a long second before looking back at Dean. And stared some more.</p><p>"Sam?" It was making Dean uneasy, this lack of talking or even attempting to talk by his usually hyper-verbal brother. They'd both had head injuries in the past, but that had never stopped Sam from trying to communicate with him before. He looked at the nurse, who had taken Sam's wrist in her hand and was, evidently, checking his pulse.</p><p>She smiled at him in what Dean was sure was meant to be a reassuring way. "He may not be completely aware, yet, Dean. He suffered a massive trauma to his brain. You need to give him some time, OK?" She straightened the bed clothes slightly. "I'm going to go call Dr. Arnold. You might just talk to him for a while, sugar," she added as she left the room.</p><p>Jake's face was concerned, but he gave Dean a quick smile. "I'm going to go let Michael know. I'll leave you alone. So you can have whatever heart-to-heart chat with Sam that you've been meaning to have." He pulled the chair Dean had been sitting in closer to the bed, then clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder as Dean sat down. "This is good, Dean," Jake said softly and then left the brothers alone.</p><p>In the bed, Sam continued to watch Dean, eyelids at half-mast, face oddly blank, but still intent on his brother.</p><p>Dean drew in a shaky breath, then gave an equally unsteady smile to his brother. "So. Let's talk about you wandering into abandoned buildings without back up..."</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean talked to Sam until his brother's eyes closed completely. Sam's expression had never changed, but he'd remained fixated on Dean, so Dean was hopeful there was something behind the disturbing blankness.</p><p>With a sigh, Dean leaned back in his chair, letting his head rest on the not-particularly-comfortable edge of the rear cushion. He'd forced himself to stay upright and alert while he'd talked to his brother, and while it hadn't taken Sam long to fall back asleep, the exertion had worn Dean out. Plus the talking hadn't made his throat feel any better. His own eyes slid shut.</p><p>"Hey, man." A hand on his shoulder woke Dean from the doze he'd fallen into.</p><p>Michael patted him gently, and Dean saw that Dr. Arnold was standing by Sam's bed. Jake was by the door, obviously trying to stay out of the way in the small room. But he held out a Coke, and Dean heaved himself out of his chair to reach out and take it gratefully.</p><p>Dr. Arnold gave him a sympathetic glance before turning his attention back to Sam. "I hear this one's showing some signs of waking up."</p><p>Dean twisted the top off the Coke and took a careful sip. The cold soda felt great on his throat, but the carbonation was tricky if he drank too quickly. He swallowed and answered the doctor. "Yeah. He actually had his eyes open for a little while."</p><p>"Did he speak?" The older doctor pulled a small penlight out of his pocket.</p><p>"No. Just watched me."</p><p>"Did he seem to recognize you?" The doctor lifted one of Sam's eyelids and flicked the light into and away from the eye. Sam didn't stir.</p><p>"I think so?" Dean said it like it was a question, but realized it really wasn't. "I mean, yeah. I'm pretty sure he did."</p><p>"Did it seem like he wanted to speak?"</p><p>"No. He didn't. Which was weird. He just stared at me."</p><p>"But you still felt like he knew you," the doctor confirmed, checking reflexes with quick assurance.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>The doctor nodded, frowning thoughtfully at Sam. "Let's see if we can rouse him." He stepped back slightly from the bed. "You try, Dean. Let's see if he'll respond to you. My manhandling him just now didn't seem to have much effect."</p><p>Dean stepped forward, glancing somewhat self-consciously at the doctor and Michael. He put his Coke to the side and laid a hand on Sam's arm, shaking it. "Hey, Sammy. Time to wake up."</p><p>There was no response, so Dean jiggled Sam's elbow a little more forcefully. "Dude. Wake up." He looked at the doctor. "I'd usually rub a knuckle over his sternum, but with his ribs..." He and Sam probably had more experience trying to rouse each other out of unconsciousness than most people.</p><p>Dr. Arnold nodded. "Try being a little louder."</p><p>"Come on, Sammy. Get up." He pitched his voice louder and put a degree of urgency into his tone that he hoped would translate in Sam's unconscious mind to Dean's being in danger. He hated to do that, but they both usually responded more quickly if they thought – even subconsciously – that the other was in trouble.</p><p>Sam stirred.</p><p>"Good," said Dr. Arnold encouragingly.</p><p>"Wake up, Sam." This time Dean made it an order. "Open your eyes."</p><p>Sam's head turned to his brother, and his eyes struggled open. He peered at Dean, and Dean couldn't keep the grin off his face. "Hey."</p><p>Sam blinked heavily.</p><p>"Hi, Sam. I'm Dr. Arnold."</p><p>Sam's eyes flicked to the doctor, then back to Dean.</p><p>The doctor took Sam's hand. "Sam," he said trying to recapture his attention. "Can you squeeze my hand?"</p><p>But Sam's attention didn't waver from Dean, and the doctor shook his head. "Come on, Sam. Squeeze my hand, if you can."</p><p>Frowning, the doctor let go of Sam's hand and moved to the end of the bed near Sam's unbroken leg. He moved the covers to the side and put a hand under the arch of Sam's foot. "Push down, Sam." No response. "Sam. Push down with your foot." Still nothing.</p><p>Dean felt his anxiety starting to rise. He looked at Michael for some sort of clue as to what this meant.</p><p>Michael was studying Sam thoughtfully. His eyes went from Sam to Dean and then to the doctor. "Have Dean try."</p><p>Dr. Arnold's eyebrows went up, but he nodded his agreement. "Dean."</p><p>Confused, Dean shook his head.</p><p>"You tell Sam to squeeze your hand," the older man instructed. "Let's see if he responds to you. He did on waking up."</p><p>Uncertain, Dean slipped his fingers into Sam's loosely curled palm. He opened his mouth to tell Sam to squeeze, but Sam's hand had already tightened on Dean's. He looked at Michael, who had started to smile ruefully, eyes coming to Dean's.</p><p>"I wondered," said Michael. "Ask him to squeeze."</p><p>Dean cleared his throat. "Squeeze, Sammy."</p><p>Sam did.</p><p>Dr. Arnold made a considering face. "See if he'll push down for you." He moved his hand back around Sam's right foot.</p><p>"Press down with your foot, Sam," Dean commanded.</p><p>Again, Sam responded.</p><p>"Good." The doctor looked pleased, flipping the blanket back over Sam's foot. "He's got some nice strength."</p><p>Sam's grip on Dean's hand hadn't eased, and Dean didn't try to move away. "What's wrong with him? Why isn't he responding to you?" He looked from Sam, still watching him closely, back to the doctor. "And why isn't he talking?" He looked at Michael. "He should be talking."</p><p>The older doctor came around to the side of the bed where Dean was standing. He sighed. "On the talking, you should know that left side brain injuries like Sam's suffered often result in language difficulties. Sometimes there's an issue with understanding verbal language and also with speaking – making the connection between what the brain wants to say and what the mouth actually expresses. So that may be part of what's happening here. But he's also only just awake. The fact that he recognizes you and is responding is good news, Dean." He paused. "Why only you? I honestly don't know right now. But it may be simply that you're the constant for him in this situation. I think Michael said y'all haven't seen each other in a long time – so you were the only one there before the accident who is here now." Dr. Arnold shrugged lightly to indicate uncertainty. "Brain injuries can be tricky. We need to give him some time, OK?" He reached out and patted Dean's arm. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."</p><p>Dean let out a shaken breath. He nodded. "So what do we do from here?"</p><p>The doctor eyed the chart he was holding and the medications indicated on the white board across from the bed. "I'm going to make some adjustments to Sam's meds, see if we can get him a little more aware. But even so, encourage him to rest. When he's awake, talk to him, but I wouldn't expect him to respond. At least not right away." He looked at Michael. "You talk to him, too. And you." The doctor looked over at Jake who was still by the door even as he scribbled some instructions on the chart. Then he eyed the leg in its traction. "We'll also need to get him up on that leg soon."</p><p>Dean's eyebrows went up. He looked at the cords and pulleys that were holding Sam's leg suspended above the bed. He knew from experience that even with severe injuries, doctors often wanted patients up and around, but a compound fracture of the femur? That was going to hurt like hell.</p><p>"The sooner we can get him mobile, the better. That contraption," he indicated it with his chin, "is to keep the leg stabilized right after the surgery, but we can unhook it pretty easily. Sam needs to start putting weight on his leg to get the rehab going." He gave Dean a serious look. "He's got a long road ahead of him."</p><p>Dean nodded an acknowledgment of that.</p><p>"I'll check back in later," the doctor said and left the room.</p><p>Dean glanced down at Sam. Sam's eyes were still on Dean, but only vaguely; when Jake moved up next to Michael at the end of the bed, Sam's attention flicked to the other men, resting there a little longer than it had previously. His eyelids were slipping closed, and Dean saw Jake smile.</p><p>"You should go on back to sleep, Sammy," Jake said gently. And to their surprise, Sam's eyes shut obediently.</p><p>All three men exchanged somewhat hopeful expressions.</p><p>"Huh," said Michael.</p><p>"Yeah," agreed Dean. Now he wasn't exactly sure what to do, standing there awkwardly with Sam's hand in his.</p><p>"You should probably get some sleep, too," Michael said. "In a bed. I can give you a ride home."</p><p>"Or do you want to just hold hands with Sam a little longer," Jake suggested with a grin.</p><p>On a growl, Dean tugged his fingers out of Sam's now lax grip.</p><p>Michael gave his brother a swat to the back of his head. "Leave him alone." He reached for the jacket Dean had dropped over the back of one of the chairs, tossing it to him. "You'll be here for a while?" he asked his brother.</p><p>Jake soothed the sting of the slap he'd received and pouted dramatically for a beat. "Yeah. Aunt Jo texted and said they'd gotten caught in the traffic from a pretty big accident on I10; I figure they may not be here until nine or so. I'll stay until they come by." He picked up his ever-present backpack and dropped it in one of the chairs.</p><p>Dean pulled his coat on, felt an odd, unwelcome tug of anxiety at the thought of seeing Jo and Luke again. "If they aren't going to get here until that late, they should wait until..." He stopped at the exasperated glare from Jake and Michael's disbelieving stare.</p><p>"Right," said Jake, nodding. "Mom will be happy to just go straight to bed and then maybe sleep in before she sees Sam in the morning." His voice dripped with disdain.</p><p>Michael shook his head wonderingly and gave Dean a condescending pat on his shoulder. "It's so cute that you think Aunt Jo and Luke—and Tommy for that matter—won't be on their way over here the minute after they've seen you and how you're doing." He looked at Jake. "It's cute, right?"</p><p>"It's pathetic, is what it is," Jake muttered dropping into his chair and unzipping his backpack to pull out his laptop. "Get out," he ordered. "This writing project is due tomorrow, and I have <em>got </em>to get it done," he said grimly.</p><p>Dean and Michael obeyed.</p><hr/><p>Jo felt a burning nervousness in her stomach as they pulled into the apartment complex where Michael and Jake lived. The drive had been a nightmare. The accident on the interstate had snarled traffic for hours. It had been tense slow-going, and they were all feeling on edge and travel-grubby.</p><p>The good news was that Tommy had had plenty of time to read Pride and Prejudice; the bad news was that Jo had had plenty of time to fret herself into feeling slightly sick. Luke was tight-jawed in the driver's seat, and Jo knew he would have little patience with her if she voiced her uncertainty right now.</p><p>Luke found a parking space and turned off the car. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as they all just sat for a moment in relief that the trip was over.</p><p>"Okay," he said, uncurling his fingers from their death grip on the steering wheel. "Okay." He sighed again, easing his shoulders down before turning to Jo. "You alright?" he asked. He gave her a knowing look, but smiled. And Jo felt a large portion of the tension she'd been holding onto drain out of her. She shook her head, amazed as always, by the effect his steadiness had on her.</p><p>"I am now," she said, and her husband leaned over to press his lips to hers.</p><p>There were dramatic gagging noises from their child in the backseat. Tommy's door opened and closed on a slam.</p><p>They grinned at each other through the kiss before pulling away. Luke waggled his eyebrows at her. "Mission accomplished," he said.</p><p>"Thank you," Jo said, giving him another quick peck. She opened her door.</p><p>"For traumatizing Tommy?" Luke asked, getting out on his own side. "Any time."</p><p>Jo just smiled at him over the hood of the Suburban and the way Luke returned it told her he knew exactly what she'd meant.</p><p>"Tommy," Luke shouted after the boy's retreating back. "Why are you not carrying anything?"</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Tommy tromped back to the car.</p><p>Jo passed the boy on her way to his brothers' apartment. "I'll send whoever's there out to help with the rest," she said, securing her purse over her shoulder. There were advantages to having three boys – one was not having to do heavy lifting.</p><p>The nervousness returned as she approached the door. She had a key, but still she knocked, feeling for some reason that maybe a degree of formality was called for given how long it had been since she'd seen the Winchesters.</p><p>"It's open!" she heard from inside, and taking a deep breath, she reached for the handle. But before she could get it, the door swung open, and Michael was standing there.</p><p>"Hey!" he said. "Why didn't you just come on in?" He didn't wait for an answer, pulling her into a brief, tight hug. "Is there stuff in the car?" And before she could say anything, he was past her, trotting down the stairs.</p><p>Jo stepped farther into the apartment; she'd been here several times since the boys had moved in last spring, and she was familiar enough with the layout to know the living area was straight ahead and the bedrooms were to the left. She wondered where Dean might be if he wasn't at the hospital.</p><p>"Hey." Dean was moving slowly toward her from the bedroom hallway. His expression was hesitant, but she could tell he was pleased to see her just the same.</p><p>"Hey," she returned, stopping herself from adding "baby" like she would have last time she'd seen him, not wanting to presume, feeling horribly awkward and hating it.</p><p>"How was your trip?" he asked. "Jake said you'd hit some traffic?"</p><p>"It wasn't too bad," she said. Because it didn't feel bad now that they were here. "How are you feeling?"</p><p>He looked exhausted and sick, and he shrugged with a rueful smile. "Not good," he admitted.</p><p>He was within reach now, and Jo didn't think, simply stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.</p><p>Dean didn't stiffen, but he did still for a moment before his arms came up to return the embrace. "I don't want to make you sick," he said softly.</p><p>"Then don't slobber on me," Jo whispered, more than a little overcome in the moment, tightening her hold on him.</p><p>Dean laughed shakily and ducked his head down closer, face pressing briefly into her shoulder.</p><p>Jo smiled softly and didn't release him, not ready to let go quite yet. She bit her lip, forcing herself not to say all things that wanted to spill out of her mouth – <em>we've missed you, we love you, don't ever do that again.</em></p><p>"You're blocking the hallway!" Luke's voice startled them apart, and Jo stepped to the side as both her husband and Tommy barreled into the apartment.</p><p>Luke dropped the bags he was carrying before moving right into Dean's space with a grin on his face. "It's good to see you, boy!"</p><p>The two men exchanged hugs and then Tommy was there.</p><p>Jo watched Dean's eyes widen at the sight of the tall – taller than both his brothers and Luke – gangly teenager, just before Tommy engulfed him in a rib crushing hug.</p><p>"Dean!"</p><p>"Tommy," Dean croaked, breathless from the enthusiastic embrace.</p><p>"Don't strangle him, Tommy," cautioned Michael from behind, closing the door as he came in. "He's sick, dude."</p><p>"Sorry!" Tommy let Dean go abruptly, and Dean staggered back a step.</p><p>''s okay, man," Dean rasped, still eyeing the boy in a kind of wonder. "It's good to see you, too."</p><p>"Can we not all just stand in the entryway?" Michael asked a little peevishly.</p><p>Laughing, the group shuffled into the main living area, Michael taking a quick detour to drop off bags in the bedrooms.</p><p>"Did we wake you up?" Jo asked. He'd been coming from the bedroom and was dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and navy hoodie with the white silhouette of a longhorn on it. Jake's clothes, Jo realized.</p><p>Dean sighed and shook his head as he eased onto the couch. "Don't worry about it. Everybody's always waking me up. I can't seem to stay awake," he grumbled half-heartedly. Mostly annoyed with himself.</p><p>Jo followed Luke into the kitchen to put away the food they'd brought. She started opening and closing cabinets to see what was available.</p><p>"How's Sam doing? Any change?" she wondered. The apartment had an open floorplan, and Jo loved being able to be in the kitchen and still be part of what was happening in the living room. When she glanced at Dean, she saw him look to Michael.</p><p>"He was awake for a while this afternoon and responded to Dean," Michael answered from where he was sitting on the other end of the sectional. Tommy had dropped down next to his brother and had slouched down low enough that Michael was able to hook an arm around his little brother's neck.</p><p>"Can we see him tonight?" Jo asked. "Or is it too late?"</p><p>"Oh," said Michael, sliding his eyes to Dean. "You want to see Sam tonight? Even though it's so late?"</p><p>"Well, of course, we do," Jo said, confused. Why was he asking her this?</p><p>"You don't want to wait until the morning?" Michael asked, tone solicitous. "Maybe sleep in?"</p><p>"Shut up," Dean mumbled.</p><p>"No. Wait until morning?" Jo frowned at Michael. "What...?"</p><p>"Ignore him," Dead said as Michael began to cackle. "He's giving me a hard time, because I didn't think you guys should go up to the hospital after such a long trip." He glared at Michael. "You win, okay?"</p><p>Michael thrust his arms into the air.</p><p>And Tommy punched him in the stomach.</p><p>Rolling her eyes, Jo turned away from the wrestling match that began when Michael retaliated by pushing his little brother over onto the couch and jumping on top of him. It wasn't her furniture they were going to break, so they could do what they pleased.</p><p>"Where's Jacob?" Luke asked, closing the freezer door. They'd had a couple of things for the boys that Luke had packed in an ice chest.</p><p>Michael couldn't answer, locked as he was currently in a choke hold by his younger brother.</p><p>"He's up at the hospital," Dean responded instead. His head was tipped onto the back of the couch and his eyes were closed. He, too, ignored the scrum on the opposite side of the sofa he was sitting on. "He was going to study until you guys got there."</p><p>"OK." She looked around the kitchen to make sure they hadn't left it in too much disarray. They hadn't. "I'm going to freshen up a little, then we'll go." There was no pause in the struggle between Michael and Tommy that had relocated to the floor when they'd toppled off the couch. She raised her voice. "You two hear me?"</p><p>"We hear you," Michael panted and with a grunt, flipped his brother onto his stomach and sat on him, bending Tommy's arm up so his wrist was between his shoulder blades. Tommy wriggled like crazy, and Michael twisted the arm a little higher.</p><p>"Ow!" yelped Tommy. "I give!"</p><p>Grinning in satisfaction, Michael let go, pushed himself off his brother and stood. Rumpled, Tommy followed him up, rubbing his arm sullenly.</p><p>Jo shook her head at Michael. "Really," Jo disapproved. "How old are you?"</p><p>"He started it," Michael shrugged, unrepentant.</p><p>Jo huffed. <em>Boys.</em></p><p>She turned to Dean who had been watching everything through heavy-lidded eyes. "Do you want to come?"</p><p>Dean sat up from where he'd been slouched, put his hands on the couch cushion like he was getting ready to stand, but Michael was shaking his head. "Unless you're getting up to go back to bed, Dean, you need to stay put."</p><p>Dean sighed, back bowing where he sat, struggling, Jo recognized, with whether to make the trip to the hospital or get the rest he must know he needed desperately.</p><p>"Seriously, man," Michael said in the soothing, but professionally assertive voice he'd taken to using now when medical matters were at hand. "You have got to sleep. And it's highly unlikely Sam's going to be awake."</p><p>Jo crossed to the sofa and sat down next to Dean. She put a tentative hand on his back, felt the muscles under her palm loosen almost imperceptibly at her touch.</p><p>"If Sam is awake, we'll tell him you're OK and that you'll be there in the morning," she told him gently.</p><p>He turned to look at her, face drawn, weariness in his eyes as he studied her, oddly intent. This close she could see changes in him that she hadn't noticed in their initial greeting by the door. The lines around his eyes had deepened and changed, etching a seriousness into his expression that hadn't been quite so stark before. And there was a dusting of gray interwoven into the slightly lighter hair at his temples that hadn't been obvious at first glance. He looked so worn. It broke her heart.</p><p>Of its own accord, the hand that had been on Dean's back moved to his cheek, cupping his face. His eyes slid closed.</p><p>"Go to bed, baby." The endearment slipped out, unbidden.</p><p>Dean's expression shifted at her words, and just when Jo was about to move her hand, fearful that she'd overstepped, he leaned slightly into her touch. They sat there for just a beat before Dean sighed and laughed shakily as he opened his eyes, looking straight into hers. "Yes, ma'am," he said.</p><p>Jo couldn't help the grin. "Good boy."</p><p>"I like your pjs," Luke said, moving forward to hold out a hand and pull Dean to his feet.</p><p>Dean looked down at the sweatshirt he was wearing and laughed again as he stood. "Yeah. We were overdue on laundry <em>before </em>this mess happened. And Jake, at least," here he gave Tommy a jaundiced stare, "is close enough to my size that I can wear something that won't stink up the place until I can get a load in the washer."</p><p>Jo frowned at Michael for not already have gotten Dean's clothes clean.</p><p>"It's been a day since he got here!" Michael defended himself. "And it's not like I have to work or anything," he added, though he looked appropriately chastised.</p><p>Jo raised an eyebrow at him.</p><p>"Fine," Michael muttered. He trailed after Dean, and Jo was satisfied that he'd at least get a load started while they were checking on Sam. Luke and Tommy followed them. Jo hoped vaguely that they'd also get cleaned up before they headed to the hospital.</p><p>She took a deep breath in the quiet left behind as all the men left the room, then let it go on a quick prayer of thanks—safely here, reunion with Dean over and so much easier than she'd feared it might be, Sam awake and recognizing his brother.</p><p>Jo dug into her purse for toothbrush and toothpaste before heading to the bathroom herself. A quick splash of water on her face and clean teeth, and she'd be ready to go. There was one more Winchester she needed to lay eyes on before she'd be able to sleep tonight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jo had texted Jake that they were on their way to the hospital, and he'd agreed to meet them in the lobby before showing them up to Sam's room.</p><p>"Seriously?" Jake asked when he saw his younger brother. "Did he grow? Again?"</p><p>Tommy grinned in satisfaction. Michael hadn't commented on the boy's new height, choosing, as he generally did, to ignore changes in his younger brothers that had the possibility of putting him at a disadvantage. Jo had to admit that Michael's strategy of never explicitly acknowledging when his brothers had surpassed him in an area had served him well in maintaining the pecking order among the boys. Michael had always been savvy enough to realize when a competition with one of his brothers might end with him on the losing side, and Jo suspected that the wrestling match between Tommy and his oldest brother earlier in the evening would likely be the last.</p><p>Jake, on the other hand, could never let something like that pass without comment. It delighted Tommy to no end.</p><p>"6' 3"," Tommy gloated. He'd shot up at an alarming rate in the last three months, and Jo honestly did not know where this height was coming from.</p><p>"What?" Jake asked indignantly. He glared at Luke. "That's taller than you."</p><p>"Yeah," Luke acknowledged, unconcerned, as he pushed the "up" button for the elevator; it dinged immediately, doors sliding open. "What floor?" he asked as they all stepped inside.</p><p>"Five," Jake grumbled. He transferred his scowl to his aunt. "Does that make me the shortest of all of us?"</p><p>Jo had to clear her throat suddenly with the realization that Jake was including Dean and Sam in his question. In such a short amount of time the Winchesters were part of "us" again. "Well," she said carefully, "I think you and Dean are right at the same height, so no."</p><p>Jake huffed and leaned against the wall of the elevator while Tommy grinned and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, unable to contain his excitement at having bested his brother and at the prospect – Jo knew – of seeing Sam again.</p><p>It was close to 10, so the corridors were relatively quiet as they made their way down the hall to Sam's room.</p><p>"It looks bad," Jake reminded them when they got close, attention moving between Jo and Tommy. "But he's better." He reached up to push at the side of Tommy's head. "Okay?"</p><p>"Yeah." Tommy's head rocked slightly at his brother's touch, and he bit his lip, expression nervous now that they were almost there.</p><p>Jo put her hand in Luke's, and he squeezed in gentle reassurance.</p><p>It did look bad.</p><p>Sam's face was swollen, purple and red and kind of horrifying-looking, though Jake assured them again that there had been improvement. Sam's hair poked out from under the bandage that covered the place where they'd opened his skull to repair the damage to his head. The leg in its traction looked frightening as well. Jo knew that somehow, miraculously, nothing else was broken. His ribs and a large percentage of his body were badly bruised and would be incredibly painful when he finally fully woke. But the rest of Sam's injuries were not nearly as concerning as the head and leg injuries.</p><p>Jo detached herself from her husband and stepped to the side of the bed. "Hey, sweetie." She slipped her hand into Sam's where it lay on the bed. "It's Jo." She leaned over and kissed him carefully on the cheek. "We're here." She smoothed the backs of her fingers over the stubble there. "You're going to need a shave soon, I think," she told him.</p><p>"Hey, Sam." Luke moved up behind Jo and put a hand, heavy on Sam's uninjured knee.</p><p>Jo glanced over her shoulder at Tommy, who was watching them all uncertainly. He hung back, not approaching the bed. Jake stood nearby, and to Jo's surprise didn't tease his brother or make any move to force him forward.</p><p>"You know. A lot of these rooms have flowers and junk in them," Jake observed. "Stuffed animals, balloons." He shrugged. "I was thinking we should probably get Sam a teddy bear or something." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "There's a big blue panda down in the gift shop I've got my eye on." He glanced at his brother. "You should check it out. See what you think."</p><p>Tommy's eyes moved from Sam's still figure to Jake. He smiled shakily. "Yeah?"</p><p>"We could put it that chair." Jake pointed. "So it could keep him company when we're not here. And watch him with its beady little eyes."</p><p>Tommy snorted.</p><p>"Or I think there's a clown down there."</p><p>Tommy started to giggle. "Sammy loves clowns," he managed a little breathlessly, expression easing.</p><p>"Let's try not to traumatize the poor guy right away, OK?" Luke recommended dryly. He patted Sam's knee consolingly. "Don't worry, Sam," he said. "I'll protect you." He backed away from the bed and wandered around the room. With a foot, he angled one of the chairs into a position that would let him prop his feet up on the bed. "So." He sat down, raising his legs to rest them in a comfortable position.</p><p>"So," Jo agreed. They'd talked about this in the car.</p><p>"What?" asked Jake and Tommy together.</p><p>"I'm going to hang out with Sam tonight," Luke said. "Jake, you take your mom and your brother home." He looked at Jo. "You get some sleep; fuss over Dean for a while in the morning, then come relieve me." He was reminding her of what they'd already decided.</p><p>Still. Biting her lip, hand tightening around Sam's, Jo nodded reluctantly. She didn't want to leave Sam. But at the moment, Dean was in more need of "fussing over" than Sam was. For now, Luke would be with Sam while he slept and be there if anything changed. But she hesitated.</p><p>"Sugar, if Sam does wake up, he's not going to be very aware."</p><p>She knew that.</p><p>"He may not even recognize us," he added.</p><p>She knew that, as well.</p><p>"And you know how you get when you don't sleep," Jake contributed; Jo glowered at him.</p><p>But that was true, too.</p><p>She sighed. "Fine."</p><p>She looked down at her hand where it clasped Sam's. She ran her other hand down his arm, petting him as a delaying strategy before leaning over again. "We've got you, baby," she whispered to him. "We love you. You're going to be fine." She kissed him one more time and added, "And don't you worry about Dean, okay? We've got him, too."</p><p>She let go of Sam's hand and pulled the blankets smooth over him, continuing to fiddle with them more fretfully than she wanted to.</p><p>There was movement next to her, and Jake put an arm around her, turning her away from the bed. "He'll be here in the morning."</p><p>Jo let herself be moved with a last brush of finger tips over Sam's arm.</p><p>"See you tomorrow, Sammy." Tommy had finally stepped up, taking the place Jo had vacated. He'd taken Sam's fingers loosely into his own hand and was studying the man in the bed seriously. "I've missed you." His voice broke slightly.</p><p>By the time Jo had blinked her eyes clear, Tommy had joined her by the door. He draped his freakishly long arm over her shoulders, replacing the one Jake had removed when he'd preceded her out into the hallway. Tommy looked down into Jo's face, expression intent. She swallowed, trying to prepare herself for whatever he might say, to think of encouragement for him in the face of seeing Sam so hurt.</p><p>Tommy sighed heavily.</p><p>"Can we get a hamburger before we go home?"</p><hr/><p>When Dean woke, he could smell bacon and coffee. Usually that combination would have been heaven, but feeling the way he did, it kind of made his stomach turn uncomfortably. He curled onto his side and stared blearily in the direction of the clock on the nightstand. Blinked at it. 10:13.</p><p>It was light in the room, though the glare was somewhat muted by the blinds, so it must be morning. Dean closed his eyes. He should get up. He needed to get up. Get going. Check on Sam. See if there had been any change... Maybe ...</p><p>He blinked again, and the clock said 11:21.</p><p>Crap.</p><p>Dean groaned.</p><p>Pushed himself upright.</p><p>
  <em> Get. </em>
</p><p>He managed to ease his legs over the side of the bed and sat for long minute.</p><p>
  <em> Up. </em>
</p><p>He got his feet planted and stood. Swayed for a precarious moment, then steadied.</p><p>There. Up.</p><p>The door was just a few feet away, and Dean took a deep breath before starting forward. Damn. He was still so tired.</p><p>Before he could get there, though, the door inched toward him. A head poked hesitantly into the room. When Tommy's eyes met Dean's, the door swung all the way open abruptly. The kid caught it before it slammed into the wall.</p><p>"You're awake!" Loud enthusiasm.</p><p>Dean produced a tight smile. "Just."</p><p>Tommy's own bright grin didn't falter and when he turned his face down the hall, Dean braced himself as the boy opened his mouth and drew in a deep breath.</p><p>"He's up!"</p><p>Even prepared as he was for the shout, Dean couldn't help the flinch.</p><p>"Dude," he managed.</p><p>"Sorry." Instant contrition. "Does your head hurt? Do you need some aspirin?" Now Tommy looked worried. "I'll go get you some aspirin."</p><p>But before Tommy could get anywhere, Jo appeared in the doorway. She put a staying hand on Tommy's arm, even as her eyes went to Dean.</p><p>"Hey, sweetie."</p><p>"Hey," he rasped. Three words into the day, and his throat was already aching fiercely.</p><p>"You ready for some breakfast?"</p><p>Dean hesitated.</p><p>"You need to eat."</p><p>People kept telling him that. And he wasn't used to having to be coaxed to put food in his mouth. But even now his stomach wasn't sure.</p><p>"Just some eggs, okay? Maybe a little toast? Michael said you've been able to handle that much?"</p><p>Dean swallowed carefully. Nodded resolutely. He could do that.</p><p>"Good. Come on out when you're ready. I'll get things started."</p><p>Dean nodded again. He wanted to say "thanks," but couldn't muster up the courage to try and scrape it over his raw throat.</p><p>Jo eyed him. "Throat bothering you, baby?"</p><p>He grimaced at her in response.</p><p>"You could gargle some salt water – that might ease the pain a little."</p><p>Dean wrinkled his nose at her. <em>Gross</em>.</p><p>Jo shrugged. "Up to you." She turned away. "If you're too stubborn to try something that might help, I can't force you."</p><p>Dean looked at Tommy skeptically as Jo disappeared down the hall.</p><p>"Yeah," Tommy agreed. "She always says that. But somehow..."</p><p>Right. It was like the weight of Jo's disapproval for your stupidity was a physical presence, making you do whatever she thought was best, whether you wanted to or not. Dean had forgotten.</p><p>He sighed.</p><p>"You still need some aspirin?" Tommy asked. On Dean's nod, he said, "It's in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, OK?" He grinned, his earlier concern forgotten. "Since you're headed there anyway, right?"</p><p>Dean found he did have the wherewithal to flip the kid off.</p><p>"Ummmm." Tommy pretended to be shocked. "I'm gonna tellll," he sing-songed.</p><p>Dean shrugged. "Go ahead," he whispered. "I can just tell Jo you said you'd help and didn't." He raised an eyebrow blandly, and it was worth both the effort and the pain to see the smile slide off Tommy's face.</p><p>"Fine." Tommy loped off while Dean followed more slowly.</p><p>When Dean got to the bathroom, Tommy had the bottle open and a glass of water ready.</p><p>Dean held out his hand, and Tommy shook a couple of capsules into his open palm, handing him the glass after Dean tossed the pills into his mouth. He braced himself as he took a swig of water and swallowed.</p><p>Dean felt his eyes water in reaction to the pain of the medication going down.</p><p>"You okay?"</p><p>Dean nodded, pointing to his throat by way of explanation.</p><p>"You need anything else?"</p><p>Other than to pee, no. Dean pointed at the door. <em>Get out</em>.</p><p>Tommy complied.</p><hr/><p>By the time Dean tottered out to the living area, he was exhausted again. He slumped down at the table.</p><p>"Here you go, hon."</p><p>As Dean sat up, Jo slid a plate in front of him. There was a modest amount of scrambled eggs on it and two pieces of toast. He studied the meal for a long moment, then picked up his fork. Jo set a glass of water next to his plate.</p><p>Tommy was sitting at one of the other places, head bent over his phone. After a flick of acknowledgement when Dean had joined him at the table, Tommy's attention didn't waver from his texting.</p><p>Determined, Dean took first one bite of eggs, then a second. If he stayed focused on needing the food for strength, he could just manage to choke the eggs down and keep them where they belonged. Just. The toast was harder both literally and figuratively, but he ate that, too, chewing slowly and deliberately until he could make himself swallow. Then drank his water in three long gulps. When he set the glass back on the table and glanced up, he saw that Jo was watching him from where she stood by the kitchen sink. Her expression was amused.</p><p>"Well, I guess I should have known better than to expect any sort of compliment about my cooking," she observed.</p><p>Dean opened his mouth to apologize. He had kind of forgotten what few manners he had in his quest to not barf while he was eating what she'd made.</p><p>"Dean, I'm kidding. I'm proud of you for eating it all. That was, honestly, more than I expected." She sat down across from him. "How are you feeling?"</p><p>Dean shrugged. <em>Not great. At all.</em></p><p>The look Jo gave him told Dean she wasn't buying his attempt to pretend he wasn't ready to pass out again. But she did him the favor of not calling him out on it. "Luke got back a couple of hours ago." Dean's focus sharpened, but Jo was shaking her head. "No real change, sweetie, sorry. Michael's checking in on Sam until you get up there. I'm assuming you'll want to head to the hospital soon."</p><p><em> Well, duh.  </em>He put his hands on the table, getting ready to push himself up from his chair.</p><p>"Why don't you take a shower, then? I'll take you up when you're ready."</p><p>Dean subsided again and ran a hand over his face. A shower? Did he really need one? He'd showered the day before (right?). And all he'd done was sit around and sleep. Plus it would only make him tired. More tired.</p><p>Jo looked at him shrewdly. "Want to skip the shower?"</p><p>Dean grimaced slightly and nodded.</p><p>"Well, it's not like you've been doing much," she agreed.</p><p>Dean sighed, oddly relieved that Jo wasn't going to insist that he shower, which. What was even up with that? He was a grown man. He held up one finger – <em>give me a minute</em> – before finally forcing himself to his feet.</p><p>"No hurry."</p><p>Dean made his way back to his room and was surprised – but not – to find a stack of clean clothes on the dresser. He pulled out a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and a flannel. He got dressed ridiculously slowly before shoving his feet into his boots and shuffling off to brush his teeth.</p><p>"Sweetheart?" Jo came into the hallway just as Dean reached the bathroom. "I'm going to offer you some salt water to gargle with one more time before you brush your teeth."</p><p>Dean stifled a groan. It sounded so disgusting, but, damn, if his throat hadn't stopped throbbing since he'd gotten up. And swallowing... Defeated, he nodded his agreement.</p><p>Jo approached, holding a mug that Dean knew held the salt water – prepared in anticipation of his inevitable capitulation. She looked smug.</p><p>"Here."</p><p>Dean took the offering with a pout.</p><p>"Tommy and I are ready when you are," she said.</p><p>He nodded, closing the bathroom door on her. He heard her laugh on the other side.</p><p>Dean set the mug on the counter and wrestled his toothbrush and toothpaste out of his Dopp kit. He wanted to be ready to brush as soon as he'd finished.</p><p>OK. He took a mouthful of the warm salt water – <em>ugh </em>– and tilted his head back, letting it settle in his throat. He gargled, quickly at first wanting to get it over with, then slowing, as he felt the soreness begin to ease. Dean spit the water out when he needed a breath. He waited for a minute, testing the results, then gargled again. And one more time, finishing the cup. He swished the saltiness out of his mouth, then brushed quickly, somewhat afraid of counter-acting the sweet relief with the toothpaste. He wondered if he could make up a bottle of salt water and carry it with him for whenever he needed it. He wondered if he could do it without having to admit to Jo that she'd been right.</p><p>When he made it into the living room, Jo smiled at him, but didn't comment.</p><p>"Let's go!" Tommy barked.</p><hr/><p>They'd dropped Tommy off at the law school to meet up with Jake and supposedly study. Jo had visibly shuddered at Dean's question about Tommy's hanging out in the hospital room with them.</p><p>"Really?" she'd asked. "Do you want to be cooped up in a small space with that awkward ball of energy for the day? We'd need another hospital room for <em>him</em> after 10 minutes." She'd watched her nephew jog up the stairs to the school. "Let Jake deal with him for a couple of hours."</p><p>Dean had raised an eyebrow at that. Tommy had always seemed like the easy one to Dean.</p><p>On his look, Jo had made a face. "Sorry. It's been a rough few months."</p><p>As they'd headed to the hospital, Dean had listened to Jo's rundown of Tommy's growing pains with interest. In Dean's eyes, Jo had always managed to at least appear to have things under control when it came to the boys. Her obvious frustration with Tommy was both refreshing and a little disturbing.</p><p>Jo had sighed as she'd pulled into a parking spot. "The thing is that I know that a lot of what we're going through with Tommy isn't really all that bad. It's annoying, but it's pretty typical behavior for a kid his age." She'd shaken her head ruefully. "And you'd think after dealing with variations on this theme with Michael and Jake – plus Luke's older two – that we'd be better prepared to deal with it. But, honestly? We're old now. And too tired for this... stuff."</p><p>Dean had laughed as he'd pushed the car door open. "Energy drinks can be helpful," he'd suggested. Talking was easier than it had been, but he could still feel a tightness in his throat that made him speak carefully.</p><p>"Don't think I haven't tried that," Jo had admitted. "But the crash at the end only made things worse."</p><p>When they'd gotten to Sam's room, Dean had been drooping. Jo had parked in the garage without thinking about it, and it had been a long walk to their destination. Jo had been remorseful, but Dean had refused her offer to start up the car again and drive him to the door. He'd been seriously regretting that decision by the time they'd made it to Sam's room.</p><p>The nurse had stuck her head in to give them an update on Sam's progress – still unconscious, but definitely moving toward wakefulness. They were just waiting for Sam to decide to surface, the woman had said with a slight smile. Dean and Jo had spent some time talking to Sam, trying to bring him around, but Sam had stayed stubbornly – surprise, surprise – asleep. Brat.</p><p>That had been hours ago, and now, shifting restlessly in an impossible attempt to find a comfortable position in the damned chair, Dean wanted to crawl out of his skin. The fact that Jo was sitting so peacefully in the other chair reading, apparently contentedly, only made Dean's antsiness more pronounced.</p><p>"I'm taking a walk," he said, giving up on trying to settle.</p><p>Jo looked at him over her glasses. "Need company?"</p><p>"No. I'm fine. Just need to move."</p><p>"OK." She turned her attention back to her book. "Don't fall down."</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes. And put a steadying hand on the door jamb as he walked past it.</p><p>A circuit of the floor and some time spent staring out the window into a pleasant looking courtyard actually helped, and Dean headed back toward Sam's room ready to settle in again.</p><p>"Feel better?"</p><p>Dean nodded toward Jo and made his way to Sam's bedside for a quick check-in. "Hey, man." He patted Sam absently on the arm, eyes skimming vaguely over the monitors his brother was connected to without much comprehension of what he was seeing. The doctor had said they indicated Sam was much closer to sleeping than...coma-ing, and Dean was good with that. "You..."</p><p>Sam's arm under Dean's hand moved. He made an odd, questioning sound.</p><p>"Sam?" Dean tightened his grip reflexively on Sam's forearm. "You with me?" He was aware of Jo jumping out of her chair and joining him on the other side of Sam's bed.</p><p>Sam's head turned slowly toward Dean, eyes working their way open.</p><p>Surely at some point Sam's simply opening his eyes wouldn't seem miraculous. But this was not that point. "Hey."</p><p>The look Sam gave him was puzzled and pained, but was definitely more aware than the one Dean had gotten the day before.</p><p>"How are you doing?" Dean let go of Sam's arm and put a steadying hand on his brother's chest.</p><p>Sam's eyes moved away from Dean and skimmed uncertainly down his own body. Dean watched as Sam took in his leg in the traction harness and his right hand moved unsteadily up, reaching for his head, touching his temple, eyes coming to Dean's again. Asking.</p><p>"You were in house collapse, dude," Dean said, and though Sam maintained the same troubling silence he had the day before, Dean could see the information register.</p><p>Sam's tongue poked out, running over chapped lips.</p><p>"Here." Jo had stayed silent up to this point, but now she held out a cup to Dean. "Ice chips," she reminded him.</p><p>Sam blinked when he saw Jo, and there was a flicker of recognition before Sam's attention shifted to Dean, then back to Jo.</p><p>"Hey, sweetheart," Jo said.</p><p>"Yeah, guess who I ran into?" Dean shook the cup of ice, and Sam turned his head toward Dean. "Want some?"</p><p>Sam's mouth opened, and Dean obligingly dropped some chips in. "Just let them melt," Dean reminded him as Sam's eyes slid closed. Then Sam dipped his chin slightly in acknowledgement.</p><p>Dean raised an eyebrow at Jo, who responded in kind.</p><p>"Maybe I should go get a nurse?" Jo mouthed, and Dean nodded.</p><p>Dean felt a light tap on his arm and looked down to see Sam squinting at him, mouth open again. Dean gave him some more ice. And with Dean's focus back on his brother, they repeated the process several more times, without the need for more reminders until Sam didn't open his mouth again.</p><p>"You done?"</p><p>Sam regarded Dean steadily for two long beats, face clouding before he finally nodded, and Dean set the cup on the bedside table.</p><p>"Okay, man, listen." Dean checked over his shoulder, not sure what he was actually hoping for – that the doctor or Jo would come back in or that he'd have a minute to talk to Sam in private.</p><p>"Your injuries are serious, okay, Sammy?" Dean tried to say it as gently as he could. "And the head injury – you actually had a dent in your head that they had to fix."</p><p>Sam's face, colorless as it had seemed, actually paled some more, and Dean spoke quickly, hoping to reassure. "But the fact that you're awake and recognizing people, is a really good thing. You hear me, Sam? That's <em>good</em>."</p><p>Sam blinked at him, trying to process what his brother was telling him. He frowned at Dean, confused Dean knew by the situation and probably by the fact that he wasn't able – apparently – to articulate that confusion.</p><p>"It's good, okay?" Dean reassured him, keeping his voice steady and firm, trying to infuse a sense of calm into Sam.</p><p>Eyes locked on Dean for a long minute, Sam breathed in shakily, nodded carefully. Dean could see that in addition to the uncertainty in Sam's expression, there was a creeping registering for his brother of the pain he was in.</p><p>"Alright." Dean hesitated. He wasn't sure how much further to go in explaining what was happening, but he knew that the not-talking thing was going to become an issue for his brother pretty quickly. In fact it already was. "So," he went on, "The doctor said that the head injury might cause some communication issues," Sam's face creased in alarm, and Dean hurried on, "but that we needed to give you some time, okay?" Again, Dean kept his voice as low and calm as he could, eyes on Sam's, trying to keep his brother focused on him.</p><p>Sam's breath hitched a couple of times, his mouth working, but no sound came out.</p><p>"Sam. Listen."</p><p>Sam shook his head, not in refusal to listen, but in response to whatever was going on in his head.</p><p>"Sammy, look at me." Dean bent closer, pressing down slightly with the hand he'd placed on Sam's chest, trying to shift his brother's attention from internal matters to external. Sam made a soft sound at the pain Dean knew he must have felt at the pressure on his bruised ribs, but his attention shifted, gaze moving almost desperately to Dean.</p><p>Dean nodded at him, encouraging. "I get that you're scared, man, I do. But," and here he gave a slight smile, "we can't freak out yet, okay?" He waited, not letting his eyes waver from Sam's.</p><p>And Sam looked right back at him, grounding himself and settling. Sam nodded unsteadily again.</p><p>There was movement at the door, and Dean turned toward it, straightening as he did so, but not breaking physical contact with Sam.</p><p>Dr. Arnold was entering the room, Jo on his heels.</p><p>When Dean returned his attention to his brother, Sam was looking at the doctor.</p><p>"Hi, Sam," said the man. "I'm Dr. Arnold." He smiled when he realized that Sam was aware of him. "It's good to see you a little more awake. Your brother's been worried."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"<em>It's good to see you a little more awake. Your brother's been worried."</em></p><p>Sam's eyes moved to Dean, then back to the doctor, before shifting to Jo off to the side. His expression changed, slight surprise again, like maybe he'd forgotten she'd been there earlier. Dean wondered if he should be concerned, but when the doctor glanced over at Jo, then to Dean, he nodded, clearly pleased.</p><p>He addressed Sam. "You remember Mrs. Sweed, Sam?"</p><p>Sam's brows drew down, and he nodded.</p><p>Jo's eyes filled, and she sniffed, moving past the doctor, back to the far side of the bed. She picked up Sam's hand carefully and held it. Dean saw Sam's fingers tighten slightly around Jo's, and his eyes rested on her for a minute before he drew in a shaky breath and refocused on the doctor.</p><p>"So, what's next Doc?" Dean asked.</p><p>"Well." The doctor reached up and unslung the stethoscope around his neck. "I'm going to check vitals and responses." He looked at Sam, including him in the discussion. "Sam, has your brother told you what happened?"</p><p>It took Sam a longer moment than is should have, but he nodded.</p><p>"He talked to you about the injury to your brain? And the possibility that there may be some issues related to that damage?"</p><p>Again, Sam nodded, eyes seeking out his brother before meeting the doctor's again. His mouth worked, but nothing came out and his lips tightened in frustration, anger beginning to show itself on his face.</p><p>Jo yelped. "Ow!" She flinched around the hand Sam was holding, pulling free when Sam released her abruptly. She breathed out a laugh, shaking out her hand a little bit. "Easy, sugar." She touched him gently on the cheek. "Your grip's still strong anyway," she teased, taking Sam's again.</p><p>Sam let out a shaky breath. His lips moved around what should have been "sorry," but wasn't.</p><p>Jo answered the sentiment anyway. "It's okay, honey."</p><p>"I know how frustrating this is, Sam," the doctor said. "You know what you want to say, right?" He looked at Sam, raising an eyebrow, and Sam nodded. "It's getting the words out that's the problem?" Again, Sam nodded.</p><p>The doctor made a considering face. "It's possible we're dealing with some degree of aphasia. You're understanding what's being said around you and you know what you want to communicate, but your brain's not making the connection between what it wants to say and the muscles that the mouth needs to work to get that information out."</p><p>Dean felt something cold and heavy lodge in his gut and he knew – when he looked at Sam's face – that his brother was feeling the same thing. Sam unable to communicate was wrong on so many levels. Dean shook himself internally and patted Sam's chest carefully. Sam's head turned toward him.</p><p>"We'll figure it out, Sam." Dean slid out of the way as the doctor moved up, ready to get to the task at hand.</p><p>The doctor put the eartips for the stethoscope into his ears. "We'll run some tests to see about brain function and mobility and get Sam started on PT for his leg and speech therapy." He patted Sam on the leg briefly before putting the cold, round chestpiece on Sam's sternum over his gown. "I'm very encouraged, Sam," he said. "Now take a deep breath for me."</p><p>Sam obeyed carefully, wincing at the pressure on his bruised ribs, attention on Dean, even as he followed the doctor's instructions.</p><p>
  <em> We'll figure it out. </em>
</p><hr/><p>"Where's Sam?" Luke asked as he strolled into the room with his hat in his hand. He was dressed in jeans and boots and a crisp white button-down shirt. He, Jo, Tommy, and Michael had gone to the 9:15 service at the church the boys attended. Michael – wearing his usual scrubs for a shift after church – had mocked his uncle for "dressing up."</p><p>Luke had turned to Dean. "We went to church with the boys this summer, and there were grown men wearing shorts and flip-flops," he'd said. "Grown. Men." Luke had repeated it slowly so that Dean could understand the depth of his disapproval. He'd shaken his head mock-despairingly. "Austin."</p><p>"It's solid preaching and good worship," Jo had contributed as she'd come into the living area wearing exactly what she would have worn to their small, conservative church at home. "Even if they meet in a school gym, and I have to wear earplugs when the band is playing."</p><p>Michael and Jake and Tommy had all rolled their eyes.</p><p>Jake had announced he would go to a later service – he had a study group meeting in the morning – and had dropped Dean at the hospital before heading to the library.</p><p>"He's got PT," Dean told Luke.</p><p>It had been a couple of days since Sam had woken up and the hospital staff was serious about getting Sam up and around and building strength in his broken leg. There was speech therapy each day, too, trying to help Sam communicate more effectively. It had been rough going. For everyone.</p><p>Nodding, Luke hung his hat on the back of one chair, picked up the big, blue bear Jake and Tommy had bought for Sam out of the other, and took its place. He held it on his lap for a minute before finally setting it gently on the floor against the wall next to him, making sure it was facing the bed. Tommy and Jake were insistent that Blue Bear, as they'd imaginatively named the monstrosity, be treated kindly and respectably. They took it strangely personally if someone, say, happened to toss the stuffed animal into a corner to get it out of the way. Luke had obviously decided it was easier to play along.</p><p>"How's he doing this morning?" Luke stretched his legs out as he got settled.</p><p>At this point, Sam's PT sessions were fairly short, primarily intended to get Sam moving and started putting weight on the broken leg. Even so, he was usually exhausted when they brought him back to the room.</p><p>Dean shrugged. "Not excited about the work out."</p><p>Added to the pain that came from his healing leg, Sam's head was hurting him badly. Sam may not be able to communicate well when he needed relief, but Dean already had a lifetime's experience reading his brother's tells. He was doing what he could to help Sam stay ahead of the pain.</p><p>Luke nodded again. "Jo's going to cook something this afternoon and bring it by for his dinner tonight. See if she can tempt him."</p><p>Dean smiled slightly. "He'll like that."</p><p>Sam had been cleared for regular food but hadn't been enthusiastic about what the hospital had to offer. Though that could be the medications having an impact on his appetite. It was hard to tell, especially since Sam was limited to nodding or shaking his head in answer to questions.</p><p>They'd tried having him write out questions and responses the day before, but what Sam had managed to produce hadn't made sense – random letters or words that were unrelated to what Sam had been trying to say. He'd gotten so frustrated he'd tried to hurl the pen across the room. Sadly he was still so weak, the toss had gotten the pen only as far as the end of his bed. Which hadn't helped Sam's mood at all.</p><p>"Where's Tommy?" Dean knew Michael was at the hospital for work.</p><p>"At the apartment with Jo getting quizzed on Pride and Prejudice."</p><p>Dean grimaced. He didn't remember having to read that in high school, though maybe he had and just forgotten. Of course, he'd dropped out before senior year, so he probably hadn't gotten that far in English lit. Thank God. He dropped his head back against the chair.</p><p>"How are you doing?" Luke gave him a sharp look.</p><p>Dean shrugged. It was easier to stay focused on Sam than his own continued exhaustion and sore throat. There wasn't much he could do to help himself anyway, so there didn't seem like any point in talking about it.</p><p>Luke just shook his head at the non-answer, reading it for the deflection it was.</p><p>They sat in comfortable silence for a while until Sam was wheeled back into the room. Sam looked grim and the PT determinedly pleasant as they got him settled. Dean followed the woman out into the hall after she said good-bye to Sam.</p><p>"Bad session?" he asked.</p><p>The woman took a deep breath and blew it out. But she smiled reassuringly. "He's understandably frustrated and angry. But that's part of this – for him and for me. He did everything that I asked of him, even if he wasn't very happy about it." She patted Dean on the arm. "Don't worry." She turned away. "I'll see you tomorrow."</p><p>Dean watched her go, trying to decide if a bad attitude toward PT was something he should address with Sam. Before he could reach a conclusion, he saw Jake and Michael approaching down the hall.</p><p>"Hey." Jake looked at Dean shrewdly. "Everything OK?" The kid was disconcertingly perceptive when it came to reading other people.</p><p>Dean shook himself. "Yeah. Fine." He led the way back into the room. "You done studying?"</p><p>Jake huffed out a breath. "I wish. Just taking a break for some food." He was holding a bag of what smelled like hamburgers. "Figured I could get some studying done with Sam while you go home to take a nap."</p><p>Dean didn't even fight the Sweeds' bossing him around anymore when they were determined to get him away from the hospital for a while. There were too many of them crammed into Sam's room anyway. And he was dragging. He'd get Luke to take him home after they ate.</p><p>Michael was pulling things out of bags and the four men who weren't currently confined to a bed found places to perch around the room.</p><p>Dean cut Sam's burger into pieces while his brother glowered at him. Dean mostly ignored him. "You want to pick them up yourself or do you want me to hand them to you?" Sam's face darkened, and Dean amended, "Do you want to pick it up yourself?" Yes/no questions.</p><p>Sam nodded and reached for a piece of hamburger. His hand trembled visibly, but Sam managed to get a grip on what he wanted. Dean balled his own hands into fists to keep from reaching out and just doing it for his brother. The way Sam was holding the chunk of hamburger, he wouldn't actually be able to get it in his mouth easily.</p><p>Sam frowned at the food in his hand, concentrating hard; it took him a long minute to figure out the best way to hold the food in order to get it to his mouth most effectively, but he did it, adjusting his grip a couple of times before bringing the bite to his mouth.</p><p>Dean had to consciously resist the urge to clap when Sam got a bite. And he let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. If the exhalations of air around the room were any indication, Dean hadn't been the only one who hadn't been breathing.</p><p>"So." Luke took a bite of his own meal. "What actually brought you boys to town?" He looked at Michael and Jake. "Do we know that?"</p><p>Dean blinked in surprise. The fact that the Winchesters' presence in Austin hadn't come up said something about the extent of Sam's injuries and Dean's own illness.</p><p>Dean looked at Sam who was regarding him steadily, chewing determinedly.</p><p>"The house that collapsed on Sam—which, by the way," Dean gave his brother a jaundiced look, "we're going to have to talk about at some point," Sam continued chewing blandly, "was – is – haunted."</p><p>"Is that why it collapsed?" Jake asked. He had found a way to balance on the deep window ledge across from the bed.</p><p>Dean shrugged and – out of habit – glanced at his brother, who, to Dean's surprise, shook his head slightly in the negative. Dean frowned. "You remember what happened?"</p><p>Sam swallowed his bite, then nodded.</p><p>"So no ghostly activity before it came down?"</p><p>"No?" Dean said it in response to Sam's shaking of his head again; Sam made a face. "As far as you know?" Dean added, and Sam nodded. "Huh." Now Dean shook his head. "What were you even doing in there, man?" he asked, then waved off his own question. "Never mind." He sighed.</p><p>"You figure it's still haunted?" Michael had found a spot in the corner and to Dean's surprise was almost done with his burger. He'd gotten in the habit of eating quickly during his time in hospitals.</p><p>"Hard to know," Dean admitted. "The structure's mostly down, I guess, but it's not gone." He slid his eyes to Sam. "Like if we burned it." He wondered if Sam would make the connection to the Hell House all those years ago. Wondered how he'd know if Sam did.</p><p>"You're not burning the house down." Luke sounded alarmed.</p><p>Sam blinked at Dean, frowning as he thought, then his eyes rolled, and he shook his head – whether in disgust at Dean's attempt to get a rise out of him or to indicate that "no" Dean shouldn't burn the remains of the house down—was hard to tell. Though Dean would bet on the former.</p><p>"Does that work?" Michael asked curiously.</p><p>Dean shrugged. "We did it once a long time ago and haven't heard of any more activity there, so ... maybe."</p><p>"You are not burning anything down," Luke reiterated, more forcefully this time.</p><p>"Yeah, probably not," Dean agreed. "We were on the track of figuring out who we needed to salt and burn before things went to hell. Plus, there's way too much activity there with the house collapse."</p><p>Jake looked at Michael then back at Dean. "We could help. What do you need to do?"</p><p>Nodding, Michael sat forward.</p><p>Dean looked at Luke to see what his reaction was going to be to that offer.</p><p>"We don't need Luke's permission, dude," Jake said dryly. "We're a grown men, believe it or not."</p><p><em> Oh, right.  </em>Dean was still getting used to that.</p><p>Luke didn't look particularly pleased with the idea, but he nodded. "It's true. They've been making their own decisions for a while now." He shrugged. "And neither of them has done anything so stupid it's been irreparable." He shot a pointed glance at Jake. "Yet."</p><p>Dean considered, looking at Sam absently while he thought it through. "Sam had started on the research and was getting close, I think." Sam nodded, chewing determinedly on his last bite of the hamburger. He eyed the onion rings Dean had placed before him consideringly.</p><p>"You want me to cut those for you?" Dean asked, already reaching to do it. "We can look at the notes Sam made, see what the next ..."</p><p>Sam brought his hand down on the rolling tray that was situated over his lap with a sharp smack.</p><p>Dean and everyone else in the room jumped.</p><p>"Did you have something to contribute, Sam?" Luke asked wryly.</p><p>Sam's eyes were wide, and he snapped clumsily, pointing at Dean.</p><p>Dean's eyebrows went up. "Had you figured out who the ghost was?"</p><p>Sam's head bobbed.</p><p>"Who?" Dean asked without thinking, grimacing in frustration even as Sam brought his hand down again, rattling the tray. "I know, I know. Sorry." Dean ran a hand agitatedly over his head. "How...?"</p><p>Sam's hand smacked the tray again and, man, that was going to get annoying fast.</p><p>"What?" Dean snapped.</p><p>Sam made a fumbling gesture like he was writing and as Jake was scrambling through his backpack, looking for a pen, Dean growled, "Dude, writing hasn't worked. What...?"</p><p>Sam raised his hand, clearly about to whack the table again when Dean reached out and snagged his brother's wrist. "Stop. Doing that."</p><p>Sam jerked his arm away and the two men glared at each other, both frustrated and exhausted.</p><p>"Is the name in your notes, maybe, Sam?" Michael asked.</p><p>Now Sam pointed at Michael. Then cut a glower at his brother. <em>See</em>, he seemed to be saying. <em>He got it.</em></p><p>Dean huffed. "Fine." He closed his eyes, thinking through next steps. "I just dumped everything in your laptop bag. I'll go get it – is the name on the computer or did you write it down?" Dean felt the tiredness he'd been holding at bay since before lunch wash over him, and he sighed heavily, realizing he'd need to go back to the apartment, then drag himself back to the hospital, and...</p><p>"Do we need to do this right now?" Luke's question broke through Dean's somewhat haphazard thought process. "There's no deadline, is there? Dean, you're about to fall out of that chair; you need to rest first. Then we'll take on this ghost."</p><p>Dean rubbed at his eyes. That was probably a good idea. This damned mono was a complete pain in his ass. "Yeah," he agreed. "That OK, Sammy?" He was a little concerned that Sam, in his frustration, was not going to be pleased about a delay, and he braced himself for his brother's reaction.</p><p>But Sam's narrowed eyes when Dean looked over at him weren't angry; they were assessing, calculating, really looking closely at Dean, finally taking in what Dean knew was pale skin and dark circles under his eyes. He looked like crap. And Sam had just realized it was more than simply the usual worry associated with his being in the hospital.</p><p>The motion when Sam's hand came down on the tray this time was questioning, two gentle slaps. <em>What is going on with you?</em> Sam's frown was concerned, but insistent.</p><p>Dean sighed. "You remember that I was sick before this whole mess happened?" Sam nodded. "Well. Turns out I've got mono," Dean said begrudgingly. Sam's eyebrows went way up, and Dean could read the mockery in his brother's eyes.</p><p>"Shut up," he grumbled.</p><p>Sam's expression sobered, and he studied his brother.</p><p>"There's nothing to do about it, Sam." Dean responded to the question he figured Sam was thinking. "Just rest and fluids and all that crap."</p><p>Sam looked at the other men in the room, frown deepening slightly into a scowl.</p><p>"We're doing what we can, man," Jake defended them. "It's not like we can tie him up and make him rest."</p><p>Sam cocked an eyebrow at him.</p><p>Jake's eyes went from Sam's face to Dean's. "Can we?" Jake asked thoughtfully.</p><p>"No," Dean said emphatically. "You can't. I just said I'd rest, didn't I?" He rubbed a hand over his head. "We'll track down the spook later this afternoon."</p><p>"After your nap, you mean?" Jake asked sweetly. Michael had started wadding up the wrappers for his food and stuffing them in the paper bag. He gathered up his brother's and Luke's, reaching for Dean's.</p><p>Sam did them the favor of not slapping the table this time, just tapped it insistently with his index finger. When Dean looked at his brother, Sam nudged the onion rings he'd pushed in front of Dean earlier.</p><p>Dean frowned, not understanding. Sam scooched the onion rings forward another inch. <em>Oh. Right.</em> Dean picked up a plastic knife and sawed them into more manageable bites before shoving them back in front of Sam.</p><p>Sam reached out with a shaking hand and got an unsteady hold on a piece before moving it into his mouth. He watched Dean closely as he chewed and swallowed, then pointed at the door. <em>Go.</em></p><p>Dean hesitated and considered protesting just on principle, but he was too tired to make the effort. He pushed himself slowly to his feet.</p><p>Luke did the same. "We'll reconvene the ghost-busting committee later this afternoon," he said shaking his head and picking up his hat. "By the way – no mention of this to Tommy. I'll talk to Jo, but he's not part of this."</p><p>There were agreeing nods around the room.</p><p>"We should meet this evening, not this afternoon" Jake said, moving the chair Luke had been sitting in to the position he liked it when he was studying. "Dean has to rest, then we'll all have to eat, and I've got church."</p><p>Dean raised an eyebrow at the younger man.</p><p>"What? I've got stuff I have to do at church, and I'm <em>not</em> missing this." He said it emphatically. "It'll have to be late before we can do anything anyway, right?"</p><p>That was true enough. And it would probably be easier to work around Tommy if they didn't all troop off to do something together while leaving the kid behind in the middle of the day. Dean shrugged at Luke, who nodded.</p><p>Jake grinned. "Yes!" He sounded like the kid he'd recently denied he was.</p><p>Sam's eyes came to Dean's from across the room, and he was smiling. The curve of his lips was slight and oddly tremulous, like his mouth wasn't exactly sure what it should be doing, but it was there.</p><p>Dean felt the corners of his own mouth tug up in response and he shook his head.</p><p>"Fine."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"OK, here's everything I could find." Dean put his brother's leather satchel on the table in front of him. Dean was tempted to open it and get the contents out, but he was trying to let Sam do stuff for himself when he could.</p><p>Clumsily, Sam struggled with the bag, reaching in and pulling out the spiral-bound notebook that rested on top of the computer. He pushed at the bag, trying to shift it out of his way.</p><p>"You don't need the laptop?" Dean picked up the bag and placed it on the floor next to the bed when Sam shook his head.</p><p>Sam was carefully opening the spiral. He took a deep breath and focused intently on the page he'd flipped to, eyes moving deliberately from word to word. After a few minutes' concentration, he turned the page.</p><p>They'd discovered during the aphasia diagnostic tests that reading comprehension was one of the language skills affected by Sam's brain injury. The problem wasn't as severe an issue as it could have been, but reading was not easy. Dean knew that if Sam concentrated, he could make out the words on the page and their meaning, which was good. It just took longer than either of them were used to.</p><p>Dean settled back to wait while Sam searched for what he was looking for. Patience had never been a strong trait in the Winchesters, and both men were struggling to find whatever reserves of it they might have in the wake of Sam's impairment. The speech therapist had been cautious, but still somewhat encouraging about Sam's prognosis and the potential for improvement. It couldn't happen fast enough for either of them.</p><p>Dean had come back to the room early in the evening, riding up to the hospital with Jo and Tommy, who had brought dinner for Sam. Sam had eaten more than he had up to this point, pleasing both Jo and Dean. He'd worked his way steadily – if kind of messily – through the vegetable lasagna Jo had made. Jo and Tommy had stayed a couple of hours until Sam had actually dozed off.</p><p>"That's our cue," Jo said softly. She started to gather up her things, nudging Tommy to get him up and moving. "Do you want to come home with us?" She looked at Dean while she handed Tommy the bag with leftovers in it.</p><p>Dean shook his head as he stood. "I'll stay for a while longer." He wasn't sure whether Luke had had a chance to tell her the plan in terms of finding the ghost and burning a body. "Jake's coming by after he's finished at church. I can get a ride from him."</p><p>"OK." She kissed Sam on the cheek before turning and leaning up to do the same to Dean. "We'll see you in the morning if not tonight."</p><p>"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Night."</p><p>Tommy gave him a careless wave as he followed Jo out.</p><p>Dean raised his hands over his head at stretched out the tightness in his back before he moved to a different chair and sat down again.</p><p>That had been a little over an hour ago and when Sam had started to stir, waking groggily from his nap, Dean had pulled out the bag he'd retrieved from Jake and Michael's. He'd figured that Luke and the two older boys would be back shortly, so he and Sam had better get on figuring out who they were dealing with.</p><p>Sam turned another page in the notebook, and Dean sighed, moving his head from side to side, trying to work out the kinks in his neck.</p><p>Finally Sam tapped the tray in front of him, catching Dean's attention. Sam tapped his finger again, this time at a spot on the paper in front of him.</p><p>Dean stood and came over to the bed. His brother looked up at him, and Dean, cocking his head to look at the page, slid the notebook out from under Sam's pointing finger.</p><p>
  <em> Emily Johnson. </em>
</p><p>Dean scanned the notes Sam had made before the accident. It looked like she and her children had been murdered by an unknown intruder in the early 1900s. The house itself had been bought and sold repeatedly over the years, then abandoned completely in the late 70s. It made a sad sort of sense that the ferocity of the ghost's attacks had increased as people invaded the old home more and more often looking for shelter or thrills or, eventually, the ghost herself. It was interesting that two children had died in the same incident; he and Sam had only seen mentions of a female ghost.</p><p>"There hasn't been anything about the kids haunting the place, has there?" He looked over at his brother.</p><p>Sam shook his head gingerly.</p><p>"OK. Do we know where she's buried?"</p><p>Again, Sam shook his head. He brought a hand unsteadily to his temple.</p><p>Dean sighed. Both at the answer to his question and the indication that Sam was in pain. <em>Crap</em>. "Well. This is a good place to start," he said. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Asking Sam what he'd done so far wasn't a question his brother would be able to answer. He started again, "Have you tried the local newspaper archive?"</p><p>Sam shook his head carefully, closing his eyes.</p><p>Dean watched Sam for a minute. "Hey," he said gently. He looked at the clock on the wall.</p><p>Sam blinked his eyes open again, turning somewhat dazedly toward Dean.</p><p>Dean tapped his forefinger against the back of Sam's hand where it rested on the tray. "One for 'yes,' two for 'no,' okay?" That would at least save Sam moving his head around to answer questions.</p><p>Sam's eyes drifted down to their hands. He started to nod, but stopped when Dean tapped his hand once. Sam echoed the movement.</p><p>"Good. Meds are coming soon. Can you wait or do you need me to get someone?"</p><p>With a lopsided grin, Sam tapped three times.</p><p>Dean huffed out a laugh. "Yes, you can wait and no you don't need anyone?" he tried. That seemed the most likely combination given the Winchester tendency to power through pain.</p><p>One tap.</p><p>"Sorry about that."</p><p>One of Sam's shoulders hitched slightly in a shrug. His eyelids slid closed, face tight.</p><p>Dean looked at the clock again. He was tempted to call the nurse in spite of Sam's saying he wanted to wait – it was only about 10 minutes until the next round of meds. Dean knew it was more than just Sam's head that was hurting and what difference would 10 minutes make, really? But. Letting Sam have control over those decisions he could make right now in his condition, was something Dean was trying his hardest to do.</p><p>So, forcing himself not to press the call button, Dean reached down for the computer bag. He went back to his chair and pulled out the laptop. He'd see what he could find about the burial location for their ghost.</p><p>He hadn't gotten very far – the local paper didn't provide access to archives online – when the nurse arrived to give Sam his meds and check vitals. Then, just as Dean was getting resettled and ready to come at the problem a different way, Jake arrived.</p><p>"Where are Luke and Michael?" he asked after he'd flung himself into one of the other chairs.</p><p>Dean shrugged.</p><p>"Luke's going to stay home for now," Michael said as he walked into the room. "We can text him when we're ready. Hey, Sammy."</p><p>Sam smiled a little hazily, the medication starting to take effect.</p><p>"Oh, hey, Sammy," Jake said with a wince, realizing he hadn't actually acknowledged the injured man in the bed. "Sorry about that."</p><p>Sam flapped a hand at him. <em>No worries.</em></p><p>Jake smiled. "How are the drugs treating you, dude?"</p><p>Sam gave him a messy thumbs up, and everyone laughed.</p><p>"So he's not going to be much help on this," Michael observed.</p><p>"He's given a good start in his notes, and he couldn't have contributed a lot beyond that anyway, really," Dean admitted softly, sliding a glance at Sam, who just blinked at him.</p><p>"What have we got?" Jake asked, getting up to drag his chair over to Dean's.</p><p>"Sam found a name for our ghost, but we need to find out where she was buried. The newspaper's site wasn't much help, so I was going to see what the public library has online."</p><p>Dean pulled up the website and clicked through the choices – with "help" from Jake – until he found one that provided obituaries back to 1871.</p><p>"Here's hoping it says where she was buried." He clicked on the link to get them into the database. "Crap. We need a library card number."</p><p>"I've got one," Jake said, getting up to reach for his billfold.</p><p>Dean shook his head. "Nerd."</p><p>"Shut up." Jake handed over the card, and Dean typed in the number, squinting at the small numbers on the back.</p><p>"Okay." Dean typed in the name. There were several "Emily Johnsons" listed, but with the help of Sam's notes, Dean was able to find the correct one. "Damn." The listing included how she'd been murdered and the names of her two boys who had been killed with her. But there was no cemetery listed.</p><p>Michael had wandered over to stand behind Dean and Jake. He pointed at something on the screen. "She was black."</p><p>"Yeah." Dean turned to look at Michael. "So?"</p><p>"Well." Michael glanced uncomfortable at his brother, then back at Dean. "There was probably a cemetery for just African-Americans at the time she died," he said with a grimace. "That will at least help narrow it down."</p><p>Sam's finger tapped once, somewhat haphazardly, on his tray. Dean guessed he was paying attention.</p><p>"Right," Jake agreed. "Here." He slid the computer off Dean's lap. The kid had been itching to get his fingers on the computer ever since he'd sat down, so with a slight grumble, Dean let him have it. Dean was tired anyway.</p><p>Jake typed and clicked and typed and clicked for a few minutes. "Oh!" He sounded excited. "Look here she is!"</p><p>The webpage Jake had found included interment records for Plummer Cemetery. It was an incomplete list, but Emily Johnson and her children were there.</p><p>"OK," Dean said. "Where do we go?"</p><p>Jake gave the address for the cemetery and added, "Um. It says her sons were five and seven when they were killed." He paused. "Are we going to have to dig them up, too?" Uneasy eyes turned to Dean.</p><p>Dean rubbed a hand over his head. They should. Just to be safe. But. "Not necessarily," he said. "If they show up when we're taking care of their mom, though..." He let that hang.</p><p>Jake swallowed with a glance at his brother. "OK."</p><hr/><p>"So." There was a long pause. "You're going to... take a sick Dean and two of our children to... a deserted cemetery ... dig up a body ... and then set it on fire?" His wife's tone was going for <em>just making sure I understand</em>, but was edging decidedly into <em>how did I miss your going insane?</em></p><p>Luke squinted at her. "Yes?"</p><p>Jo stared at him from across their mattress. She'd just flipped back the covers to slide into bed when Luke had started his explanation about why he was leaving the apartment so late. She'd gone completely still, gaping at him while he'd talked. Now, she shook her head.</p><p>"I don't know what to do with that information," she said, finally climbing under the comforter. "Is it safe?" She cocked her head at him as she scooted back against the headboard. "Is it even legal? It can't be legal."</p><p>Luke scratched his ear and looked at her somewhat shamefacedly. "It's really not," he admitted.</p><p>Jo huffed at him. "Honestly, Luke. What are you thinking?"</p><p>Luke sat on the edge of the bed and sighed heavily. "I'm thinking that evidently there's a murderous ghost on the loose; I'm thinking Dean can't get rid of it on his own, sick as he is; I'm thinking our boys are going to help no matter what we say; and I'm thinking I'd rather be there with them than sitting here chewing my nails."</p><p>Jo gave him a knowing look. "You're <em>thinking</em> you want to see how this whole ghost thing works first hand," she said repressively. "And you're leaving me here chewing my nails."</p><p>Luke was surprised into a laugh, caught. "Well." He grinned at her. "Yeah. Sorry."</p><p>Jo glanced at the clock. "How long will you be gone?"</p><p>Luke shrugged. "Two hours?" He stood again. "I need to pick up the boys from the hospital, then we'll head to the cemetery, which actually isn't too far away." On Jo's questioning look, he added, "As far as we can tell, it's an old place and not used for much more than parkland these days. Hopefully, it won't take too long." He leaned over and kissed her. "I'll keep you posted."</p><p>"You better."</p><hr/><p>Dean leaned a shoulder against one of the posts that held up the portico covering the drop-off circle at the hospital. Beside him, both Jake and Michael were bouncing on the balls of their feet, nervous energy keeping them in fairly constant motion.</p><p>Dean rested his head on the column. At least he wasn't going to have to be the one who was digging up their ghost. He had told Luke what they were going to need out of the trunk of the Impala, and he knew he could count on Luke to get exactly what he'd asked for. He also knew that Luke and the boys could carry everything, do the digging, salt the corpse, and set it on fire with just direction from him. In fact, Dean was counting on doing very little with this particular salt and burn.</p><p>He pushed away from the porch support as the Suburban pulled around.</p><p>"Shotgun!" called Jake as his brother got his hand on the front side passenger door.</p><p>For a brief minute it looked like there might be a scuffle between the boys, but Luke said, "Dean's in the front."</p><p>With a smug look at the other two, Dean moved to his place.</p><p>"I was just opening the door for him," Michael said, hip-checking his brother out of the way.</p><p>"Sure," Jake drawled, climbing into the back seat.</p><p>On the drive to the cemetery Dean reiterated the plan they'd come up with in Sam's room. Luke, Michael, and Jake would take turns digging while Dean kept an eye out for problems of both the natural and supernatural variety. Jake had won two rounds of rock-paper-scissors beating first his brother, then his uncle for the privilege of lighting the corpse on fire. They'd fill the hole back in and be done. Dean hoped.</p><p>The cemetery was as deserted as one might expect on a chilly, cloudy night in November and the graves they were looking for were in a far corner of the park, conveniently shielded from the road by space and a row of evergreen bushes. Dean breathed out a sigh of relief. This <em>should </em>be a pretty easy operation for his team of newbies.</p><p>Digging went smoothly and quickly with three men—two of them ten years younger than Dean—taking turns and getting regular breaks. Dean enjoyed his supervisory role and wondered vaguely about how he and Sam might be able to work a couple of hired diggers into their budget.</p><p>The chunk of a shovel hitting the coffin shook Dean out of his slight daze and got him looking around for possibly pissed off ghosts.</p><p>"Good." Dean pushed himself off the tree he'd been leaning against to peer into the grave.</p><p>Jake and Michael looked up at him. Luke was by the side of the hole they'd dug, propping himself up with his shovel. He'd taken advantage of his position of authority as uncle and old man to have the boys shoveling double-shifts.</p><p>"Clear off the lid enough to give you a place to break through it."</p><p>Michael pulled himself out of the grave while Jake did the remainder of the work. It didn't take long to expose the decaying pine box and just a few sharp blows with the shovel blade busted it open. These old graves were so much easier to deal with than more recent burials with their fancy metal coffins and upholstered interiors and locks.</p><p>Emily Johnson did not make an appearance, and Dean wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned.</p><p>"OK." Jake was still in the grave, feet on either side of the open coffin. The bones of the murdered woman were exposed, eye sockets staring sightlessly, tattered cloth clinging to her torso and legs. Jake tilted his face up at Dean and in the glow of the lantern they were using, Dean could see his face was smudged and kind of queasy looking.</p><p>"Climb out."</p><p>Jake took the hands his brother and uncle held down to him and let them help him scramble up to the surface.</p><p>Dean picked up the can of salt and handed it to Michael. "Coat her good."</p><p>Michael salted the bones liberally, covering her from head to toe.</p><p>"Should we be concerned that our ghost isn't protesting this?" Luke asked. "Not that I'm complaining," he added.</p><p>Dean shrugged, not sure himself. "Sometimes they don't. Admittedly not very often, but..."</p><p>"Um. Y'all?" Michael's low whisper turned the others toward him, and he pointed.</p><p>A few yards away, three vague shapes hung suspended in the darkness.</p><p>Dean heard Luke breathe in suddenly and deeply beside him, startled and a little awed, Dean imagined, by the apparitions. Dean shifted his hold on the shotgun, bringing it up, ready to fire. But none of the ghosts made a move.</p><p>"Lighter fluid," Dean said softly, and Michael squirted the accelerant over the body, his hands unsteady in the movement.</p><p>There was still no movement from Emily Johnson or her sons. They seemed to be holding hands.</p><p>"Burn it, Jake."</p><p>Eyes fixed on the ghosts, Jake struck the match and dropped it in the hole. The coffin and its contents caught immediately, igniting with a gentle "whoosh."</p><p>Emily Johnson's ghost started to spark, what would have been the hem of her dress lighting first, then the whole figure burst into flames before she was completely consumed. The two little boys on either side of their mother wavered briefly when she vanished, dark eyes seeming to acknowledge the four men on the edge of her grave just before they, too, winked out of sight.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All Dean could feel was relief as he climbed wearily back into the Suburban. The salt and burn had gone smoothly beyond what he ever could have imagined. And having three <em>other </em>people there to do both the digging up of the body and filling back in the hole had been <em>awesome</em>.</p><p>"Don't get in here like that," Luke barked.</p><p>Dean flinched and paused, then realized the other man wasn't talking to him, so he dropped his butt onto the seat.</p><p>"There are blankets in the back. Put those down before you get in." Luke was scowling at Michael and Jake where they stood by the two open back doors.</p><p>"Oh, I'm sorry," Jake drawled as he moved to the rear of the Suburban. "Are we going to get your ancient car dirty?" He swung open the doors and reached for a stack of old blankets, then slammed the doors heavily.</p><p>"Do you want to explain to your mother why the car reeks of dirt and sweat when she gets in tomorrow?" Luke asked.</p><p>Jake was back at the passenger side and tossed a blanket across the bench seat to his brother, who spread it out awkwardly over the bench, trying to get as much covered as he could.</p><p>"Would she even be able to smell a difference?" Michael asked, finally getting settled.</p><p>"Ha, ha," said Luke, checking to make sure his orders had been followed.</p><p>Dean drew in a breath. It smelled like the aftermath of every grave he'd dug since he'd been a teenager – damp earth and sweat and the lingering scent of accelerant.</p><p>"Smells like home," he said with a quick grin at Luke, who just grunted and shook his head.</p><p>"You want to let Sam know how things went?" Luke asked, starting the engine. "You think he'll be up?"</p><p>Dean shrugged. Any other time, he knew Sam would be awake, but given his brother's current medication regimen, he very well might not be conscious. "I should still go by. If he is awake, and I don't go, he'll be pissed."</p><p>"Right." Luke put the Suburban into reverse and slung his arm over the back of the seat, turning to check behind them. He eyed the two men in the rear. "And the two of you are going to need to shower before you do anything else."</p><p>Dean turned, too, and snorted. It was a chilly night, but Michael and Jake were both drenched with sweat and covered in dirt. He cranked down the window.</p><p>"Like we'd planned on anything else," Jake said drily with an eye-roll at his brother.</p><p>"I'll drop you off, then come back after I've showered and filled in Jo," Luke told Dean. "That work for you?"</p><p>Dean nodded. "Sounds like a plan."</p><hr/><p>Sam was actually awake when Dean entered the room. His eyelids were at half-mast, but they snapped fully open when he saw his brother.</p><p>Sam's eyebrows went up. <em>How'd it go?</em></p><p>"Easy-peasy." Dean dropped into the chair closest to the bed.</p><p>Eyebrows again. <em>Really?</em></p><p>"Seriously. Emily's two boys showed when we lit her up, and I thought for a second we were going to have a problem, but... She flamed out, and they all disappeared."</p><p>Sam nodded. Now his eyebrows drew down as he studied Dean.</p><p>Dean sighed. Now Sam was going to be all over making sure he rested. "Luke's coming back for me in little bit." He answered the question he knew Sam was thinking.</p><p>Sam tapped once on the tray in front of him. Technically "yes," but also, Dean knew, <em>good</em>. Sam fumbled for the bed controller and lowered the mattress until it was closer to flat.</p><p>Dean stood up and reached for the water pitcher. He picked it up and gave it a careful shake. Empty. He waggled it at Sam. "I'm gonna fill this up."</p><p>Sam's head moved on the pillow in what Dean took to be an acknowledgement of Dean's words. But Sam was on his way to complete oblivion.</p><p>When Dean got back to the room, Sam was fast asleep. He put the water and cup in easy reach, then headed downstairs to wait for his ride.</p><hr/><p>"Your pressure's been steady for a good 48 hours, Sam, so we're going to remove that ICP bolt."</p><p>The doctor had been checking Sam's vitals and done some gentle prodding of the tissue around the device.</p><p>Jo had turned her face away. She could handle a lot of things, but metal rods stuck through the skull of someone she loved... just, no. For the most part, she'd managed to avoid looking at or thinking about the bolt since they'd gotten here. There'd been glimpses of it, of course – it was hard to ignore completely – but Jo had been able to simply pretend that the device penetrating Sam's cranium wasn't there. She'd endured some mockery for it, sure. But she was okay with that.</p><p>"What? Right now?" Jo turned back and focused on the doctor.</p><p>"No reason to wait." The doctor smiled at Sam, rewinding the bandage loosely around the bolt site. "I bet you're ready to get rid of that, huh, Sam?"</p><p>Sam looked a little queasy, but he nodded gingerly, hand coming up to touch the side of his head.</p><p>Jo swallowed heavily and cut her eyes to the doctor again.</p><p>The doctor smiled at her, too. "It's a fairly straight-forward procedure; usually takes about five minutes." He moved to the computer to enter something into Sam's electronic chart. "I'll gather up our team. It shouldn't take too long."</p><p>It had been inconvenient (to say the least) for Sam to have the bolt attached to the monitor since he'd regained consciousness and been expected to move around some on his own. Jo had watched once when Sam'd forgotten about his tether and tried to get out of bed without the cord being detached from the monitor. He'd been pulled up short, head rocking backward somewhat sharply when he'd reached the end of the line. He'd responded "no" when asked if it hurt – after Dean had stopped laughing (admittedly looking kind of green around the gills), and Jo had gotten her stomach under control – but the experience had made him very careful.</p><p>"You okay, sweetie?" Jo asked after the doctor left the room.</p><p>Sam tapped once on the table in front of him and gave her a small smile.</p><p>"Ready to get it out?"</p><p>A more emphatic tap, and Jo laughed. Sam's smile broadened into a grin.</p><p>"You want Dean here?" Dean had been worn out from the late hour and activity the night before, and there'd been a general consensus that he'd stay away from the hospital to rest until the next day.</p><p>Sam wrinkled his face and shook his head, double-tapping the table, as well, to emphasize his point.</p><p>"You sure?"</p><p>Sam gave her a look she recognized. From her older two boys it was often accompanied by the words, "You know I'm an adult, right?"</p><p>"Fine." Jo settled back with her book. She'd been thinking about going to get some lunch, but if she was going to be in the room when they took that contraption out of Sam's head, she didn't want to risk having anything in her stomach.</p><p>Of course, since they were dealing with hospital time, "it shouldn't take too long" translated into "it will be almost two hours."</p><p>Jo's stomach rumbled as the team entered the room, and Sam pushed his tray toward her again, prodding her to eat what was left from his own lunch. Jo shook her head and moved away from the bed to give the medical crew plenty of room. And give herself some distance from the grossness. "I'll get lunch after they're done."</p><p>Sam shrugged.</p><p>"Okay, Sam." The doctor hadn't returned, but the nurse was one who had been helping with Sam over the last few days. "The doctor told you this would be a short procedure, right?"</p><p>Sam nodded his head.</p><p>"Good." The woman reached for the controls of the bed. "I'm going to lie you down flat, okay?" The other nurse moved around to the other side of Sam and adjusted the cord attaching Sam to the monitor as his position changed.</p><p>When Sam was flat, the nurse began to remove the gauze over the wound. Jo looked out the window.</p><p>"Okay, Sam, I'm going to unscrew the nut, to loosen the bolt. It may feel a little weird."</p><p>Jo returned her attention to Sam, keeping her eyes on his face. His brow crinkled slightly as the woman worked the nut off. But it didn't look like he was in pain.</p><p>"Now I'm going to take the probe out. I'm going to count to three and then I want you to breathe out sharply on three. Okay, Sam?"</p><p>Brow still wrinkled, Sam tapped once on his leg.</p><p>The nurse was familiar with their system, so she nodded. "Good. Here we go: one, two, three."</p><p>Sam exhaled sharply and the nurse pulled out the probe. His expression changed again, eyes darting to Jo.</p><p>"You okay, baby?" she asked. She couldn't reach his hand with the medical staff on either side of the bed, so she put a hand on his foot.</p><p>Sam frowned slightly, lips moving around something he wanted to say, but couldn't get out. He moved his finger up and down one time on the blanket over his lap.</p><p>The nurse moved around to catch Sam's eye. "I know it feels a little strange, Sam, but you're doing great, okay?"</p><p>Sam tapped again.</p><p>"Good. Alright. Next step is getting the screw out. It's in there tight, so it may take me a little while to remove it. I need you to just breathe slowly through it for me."</p><p>And that was what Sam did, eyes on Jo, who found herself starting to breathe in concert with Sam, as the nurse worked the screw out of his head. When it was removed, Sam gave a long shuddering sigh.</p><p>"One last step here, Sam. Well, I guess, two. We're going to clean around the wound, then stitch you up. It should only take a single stitch, okay? Not too bad. We generally don't give a local anesthetic, though if you really want one we can. The pain of a stitch or two, I've been told, isn't worth the multiple shots to deaden the area. But it's your choice." She gave Sam a steady look. "What do you think?"</p><p>Sam shook his head.</p><p>The stitching and clean up didn't take too long, and the nurse left with an admonition for Sam to stay flat for the next couple of hours. As she gathered up her things, she said, "Sometimes a person's body will react badly to all of the activity you just went through. If you start feeling pressure or having a bad headache or nausea, let us know okay? You're likely to be sore, but if you start experiencing serious pain, we can help."</p><p>Sam blinked heavily at the nurse, and his head moved slightly in acknowledgment.</p><p>"We'll let you know." Jo moved back up to the side of the bed.</p><p>Sam watched her, and Jo smiled at him, reaching out to smooth tangled bangs off his forehead. He'd borne up well during the procedure, but was pale now and looked exhausted.</p><p>"You're going to need a haircut," she said, teasing.</p><p>Eyes closed, Sam smiled tiredly, head canting in her direction.</p><p>Jo shook her head, continuing to stroke his hair. "Just once, I'd like a chance to give you a haircut that isn't connected to some sort of traumatic head injury."</p><p>Sam's smile deepened, and he slitted his eyes open, surprising her with a kind of dopey grin.</p><p>"Next time?" she asked. The motion of her fingers through his bangs didn't stop, and she couldn't help the smile when Sam's face began to ease into the laxness of sleep.</p><p>Sam's head moved in assent even as his eyelids fluttered closed.</p><p>"It's a deal, then," she whispered. Jo planned on holding him to that promise.</p><p>Sam sighed, lips twitching into a last smile—there, then gone. "Deal," he rasped.</p><p>And fell asleep.</p><hr/><p>"He what?!" Dean yelped. He'd been lying on the couch, half-asleep, watching a movie when Jo had rushed into the apartment.</p><p>"He said, 'deal' when I told him we had one." Jo said it again, feeling the broad grin she'd been wearing pretty much since Sam had spoken, stretching wide again. "Like it was nothing. Just said it and fell asleep."</p><p>After she'd picked her jaw up from the floor, Jo had stood frozen for a long moment to see if Sam would realize what he'd done. He hadn't stirred.</p><p>"Sam?" she'd whispered, not sure what the protocol was in such a situation.</p><p>All she'd gotten in reply was a gentle snore.</p><p>So she'd tiptoed out of the room and walked/run to the nearest nurses' station.</p><p>"That's great news," the woman had said with a smile, going back to her computer. "I'll let the doctor and speech therapist know."</p><p>Once again, Jo had stood, waiting for some reaction that indicated the wonder of this news. When the woman had looked up at her, questioningly, clearly not understanding, Jo had huffed.</p><p>"Thank you," she'd said as politely as she could.</p><p>She had known where to get the reaction she was looking for.</p><p>"What did the doctor say?" Dean was struggling up from the couch and starting to cast around for his jacket. "Does he know? Have you talked to Ashley? What...?" He found his coat on the arm of the couch, picked it up, and kind of gestured with it at Jo. But he wasn't looking at her, eyes on the floor as he shuffled around, now looking for his shoes, Jo supposed.</p><p>"The nurse said she'd let the doctor and Ashley know, but I went ahead and called them." Jo waited until Dean's attention was back fully on her. "I left a message with Dr. Arnold, but Ashley was very pleased." She reached out and took the coat from Dean's hand. "She suggested letting him sleep and addressing the speaking with him in the morning." The speech therapist had been wonderful and at this point, whatever Ashley said, Jo was planning to do.</p><p>"The morning? But..." Dean went for the jacket again. Stretching for it made him wobble a little unsteadily.</p><p>Jo angled the coat out of his reach, giving it to Luke. "Ashley said the fact that Sam spoke without really thinking about it is a good indicator of his recovery, but that we don't want to place a whole bunch of pressure on him about it."</p><p>Dean stared at Jo and – bless his heart – was clearly trying to wrap his mind around not just the good news, but the more disappointing news that he needed to wait until the next day to talk to his brother about it.</p><p>"But..."</p><p>"Sit back down, Dean." Luke made it a command, but he was smiling. "Sam's resting, and you should be, too. It'll wait until morning."</p><p>Dean scowled, not sitting, and glancing at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. "It's like four o'clock in the afternoon."</p><p>"Yes," said Luke agreeably. "It is."</p><p>"I could rest in Sam's room," Dean offered. He wasn't going to give up easily, but Jo could see that he was wavering.</p><p>"You could."</p><p>"Who's going to be with him tonight?" Dean had backed up a step toward the couch.</p><p>"Honestly?" Jo raised an eyebrow at him. "You should have seen the look he gave me this afternoon when I suggested he might want you with him when they took that horrible bolt out of his head." She patted Dean on the arm and headed toward the kitchen. "I think we might be hovering a bit."</p><p>Dean let out a gusty sigh. "Maybe," he conceded and sat heavily. Slouching down, he admitted, "Usually it's just the two of us, and there's nothing really to do except hang out together in the hospital if one of us is there. I'd just as soon hang out with Sam as hang out by myself at the motel."</p><p>"That makes sense." Luke dropped back onto the couch himself, reaching for the remote.</p><p>"What happened to invalid picks the show?" Dean pouted, not fast enough to keep Luke from snatching the remote off the cushion beside him.</p><p>"Oh," said Luke, changing the channel. "That only applies in the hospital. At the house, I'm in charge again."</p><p>"Pffft," Dean responded. "Hey, <em>Hunt for Red October</em>."</p><p>Luke nodded, putting the remote back down, but out of Dean's reach. "I knew you'd see it my way."</p><p>The two men watched the movie in silence while Jo puttered around the kitchen, thinking about dinner, but so happily distracted over Sam's progress, she wasn't making much headway. She opened and closed cabinets and the refrigerator door vaguely, not really seeing what was inside. She turned to ask what the two men might want for dinner and stopped.</p><p>On the sofa, Dean was still slouched down as far as he could get without slipping off the cushion, but he'd tilted somewhat toward Luke, watching the movie through heavy-lidded eyes. It struck Jo then, that much of Dean's desire to be at the hospital with his brother was probably founded on his own desire not to be by himself. Of the two men, Sam was the one who, Jo suspected, did alone better than his brother in these situations. Not that anyone wanted to be by themselves too much when they were sick or injured and in the hospital, but she thought Sam might not mind a little time without someone hanging around.</p><p>But that didn't mean his brother might not need a little reassurance.</p><p>"Dean?"</p><p>"Yeah?" Dean raised his chin off his chest and opened his eyes fully to look at Jo.</p><p>"Michael's got a 12-hour shift at the hospital – I'll remind him to be sure to check in on Sam, OK?" She returned her attention to the fridge and opening it, made her decision about dinner. She pulled out the last casserole they'd brought. She placed it on the counter and turned on the oven. "Will that make you feel better?" She said it knowing Dean wouldn't be able to resist denying he'd been concerned in the first place.</p><p>Dean gave a half-hearted snort Jo could hear in the kitchen. "I wasn't <em>worried </em>about him."</p><p>"Of course you weren't, baby," Jo cooed.</p><p>"Shut up," Dean grumbled.</p><p>"We're not allowed to say 'shut up,'" Tommy reminded him as he came into the room and threw himself down between Dean and Luke, wriggling into a space that was entirely too small for his long frame.</p><p>Dean and Luke shifted, grumbling and shoving back at the intruder even as they made room.</p><p>"Is that still the rule?" Dean re-adjusted his position and rolled his head toward Luke.</p><p>"Mostly." Luke shrugged.</p><p>"It's a good rule." Jo defended the restriction as she came back into the living area. Both Dean and Tommy made under-their-breath scoffing noises. Jo ignored them.</p><p>She picked up the remote on its cushion so she could sit down next to her husband, who draped an arm around her. "Sean Connery," she approved.</p><p>Luke grunted and rolled his eyes, not taking his attention from the screen.</p><p>She looked down the row of them – Luke, then Tommy, then Dean – all sitting practically hip to hip on the large couch Jake had bought back when he'd had a job. There was room on the other side of Dean and a full piece of the sectional to Jo's left. But nobody seemed interested in more space. She smiled and settled in to watch the rest of the movie.</p><hr/><p>"OK. Say it again."</p><p>This was the fourth time Dean had demanded his brother repeat the word, "Yes."</p><p>Sam glowered, but there was the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. "N- no."</p><p>Dean barked out a laugh and sat back in his chair. "Fine." He tried to sound disgruntled, but couldn't quite pull it off. He shook his head in wonder. "Dude. That is so awesome."</p><p>Now Sam smiled. "Y- yes."</p><p>Whatever had happened the afternoon before with Sam's spoken response to Jo's question, something had clicked in Sam's brain, and this morning he'd been able to give one word answers in response to questions. So far, they were still using the same yes/no type of questions because he hadn't been able to answer more complicated questions. The speech therapist had been both encouraging and realistic.</p><p>"Sam," she'd chided when he'd gotten frustrated during the earlier morning therapy session. "The fact that you're speaking at all right now is amazing, ok? Give yourself a break. And putting pressure on yourself to start speaking in full sentences immediately isn't going to help. You still have work to do to keep improving." Ashley had smiled at him and given his arm a little shake. "But let yourself celebrate this step—it's <em>huge </em>at this stage in your recovery."</p><p>Sam had met her eyes and taken a deep, shaky breath. "Yes."</p><p>"You're damn right, 'yes,'" she'd said and moved on to the next exercise.</p><p>Jo was proud of him; Sam had taken Ashley's encouragement to heart and though Jo knew he was still wishing he could do more, he'd taken his limitations more in stride.</p><p>"All right, darlin'. You ready?" Jo held up the pair of scissors in her hand.</p><p>With the help of one of the nurses, Sam had had his first full shower since the accident and with his hair clean was about to get a haircut.</p><p>Sighing, Sam nodded, then frowned in concentration. "Y-yes." His eyes came up to Jo's as he grinned.</p><p>"Are you sure you don't want me to do it, Sammy?" Dean smirked from across the room at him.</p><p>Jo pointed the shears at him. "Do you want to be banned from this room?"</p><p>"No, ma'am." Dean pretended to be sorry.</p><p>It had been difficult with his broken leg to get Sam settled in a chair that would still allow Jo to cut his hair without too much trouble, but they'd managed. She knew Sam wasn't super comfortable, so she planned to be as quick as possible.</p><p>"Okay, I'm going to trim you pretty short, then use the clippers." There was no getting around the fact that the only thing to do was pretty much shave Sam's head to even out the place where the surgery had been. His hair was longer than she'd seen it before, and she was kind of sad to cut it for him. She threaded her fingers through the wet strands, ruffling, then smoothing.</p><p>Sam tilted his head toward the hand that was running through his hair. "Yes."</p><p>"I'll get you a hat, man." Dean actually did look a little sympathetic. "You don't mind having a cow on it, do you? That seems to be all they have around here." The hospital was associated with the University of Texas and on the edge of campus, so there was a lot of Longhorn paraphernalia to be seen.</p><p>"It's not a cow, Dean," Jo said repressively as she started to cut. "It's Bevo." She felt a strange need to defend her state university, even if she hadn't attended it. "And he's a steer."</p><p>"Whatever," said Dean dismissively. "Sorry if I'm not up on my cow terminology."</p><p>Jo decided to ignore Dean and focused her attention on Sam. Long tendrils fell onto his towel covered shoulders and the floor as she worked. When she got the length to the point where she felt she could run the clippers of his scalp easily, she stopped.</p><p>"You okay?" Jo carefully removed the towel around Sam's neck and carried it to the trash. "Dean, will you please sweep up what fell on the floor?" They'd reassured the hospital staff that they'd clean up after themselves. She knew there'd be more hair once she'd used the clippers, but she'd feel better if they got the longer strands swept out of the way.</p><p>Sam shrugged and said, "H- hair."</p><p>Pleased to hear a new word, Jo laughed. "It's just hair?" she guessed as she draped the towel around his shoulders again. And Sam nodded, smugly pleased with himself.</p><p>Groaning dramatically, Dean heaved himself up from his chair, taking a moment to lean a heavy hand on Sam's shoulder—his way of noting the new word, too—before he reached for the broom someone had brought them. By the time he'd finished his task, Dean looked a little pale. Jo shook her head. Dean didn't complain, but dropped into his chair a little more heavily than he seemed to have intended. He looked a little startled and somewhat off-balance when he landed.</p><p>"Last step," Jo said as she started up the clippers. "What do you think, honey? You want me to leave it as long as possible or just get it as close to the shaved spot length as I can without actually shaving your whole head?"</p><p>There was a long silence that took Jo a beat to recognize. "Whoops." She thought a minute about how to rephrase the question. "Do you want me to get it as close to the length of the shaved part as I can?" She thought that might be what Sam would prefer. It would require less maintenance as it grew out, she suspected.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Here we go, then."</p><hr/><p>Jo opened the Styrofoam container on the tray in front of Sam, and he took a deep appreciative breath.</p><p>Luke and Tommy were headed back home after lunch, and it had been decided that as a goodbye/Sam-no-longer-has-a-piece-of-equipment-in-his-head celebration, Luke would bring in the family's favorite Mexican food. Sam approved.</p><p>Jo began to cut up his enchiladas, and Sam resisted the urge to poke her with his plastic fork. He'd gotten much better with his coordination over the last couple of days, but he had to admit that it would probably be neater if he let her do this. It didn't mean he had to like it, though.</p><p>Sam watched Dean open his own take-out container, take a careful sniff, then smile. The mono had affected his brother's appetite, and it was good to see Dean look like eating this meal would not require powering through it. Everyone laughed when Dean's stomach rumbled hungrily.</p><p>The whole family was packed into Sam's hospital room—Jo, Luke, Michael, Jake, Tommy, and Dean—talking and laughing and shoveling food into their mouths while Jo scolded and Jake opened his mouth full of food at Tommy behind her back. Sam suddenly felt his throat close up.</p><p>When Sam had first woken, he hadn't really been able to appreciate the presence of the Sweeds. Not that he hadn't been glad to see the family, but in a way, he hadn't really understood the <em>significance</em> of their being there. It had just seemed normal at the time, somehow, that Jo would be standing next to his bedside when he'd finally fought his way completely out of unconsciousness. That the entire family would rotate in and out of his room, keeping him company, talking to the doctors and hospital staff, forcing Dean to get rest, feeding them and housing them and just being <em>present</em>.</p><p>But now, in this moment, Sam couldn't believe they were there at all. After so many years absent, after what he and Dean had gone through, after all the unreturned phone calls and haphazard contact and what must have seemed like deliberate abandonment by Sam and Dean, how was it possible that they were here?</p><p>Sam looked at Dean, wondering how his brother was taking this, wanting to ask, wanting to speak his thankfulness into the comfortable, comforting silence that had fallen as everyone turned their attention more intently to their food. But he couldn't. Even beyond the physical difficulty of speaking for him right now, he didn't have any idea how to express everything he was feeling.</p><p>So he contented himself with soaking in the moment, eyes moving from face to face, grateful and overwhelmed.</p><p>"Sam, honey? Is everything alright?" Of course Jo had noticed. Sam just smiled and nodded, ducking head to his plate, hoping she wouldn't notice that his eyes were a little wet. He swallowed down the ache in his throat, forcing himself to concentrate on his food and on not making a fool of himself. Carefully, he lifted a bite to his mouth and let out a little hum of pleasure. <em>So good.</em> He looked vaguely at the bags the food had come in as he chewed and raised his eyebrows at the name of the restaurant.</p><p>Sam cleared his throat, but wasn't able to get the word he needed out as quickly as he wanted, so he slapped the tray in front of him, eyes on Dean. When Dean looked at him, Sam pointed to the bags.</p><p>Dean turned his head obligingly to look where Sam had indicated. "Chuy's?" Dean read slowly, sounding confused.</p><p>Sam nodded, trying to give Dean a look he would understand. Dean stared at Sam. Sam pointed to the food, then back at the bags.</p><p>"Mexican food?" Dean tried.</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes in frustration. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Dean. <em>Wait. </em>He concentrated. "Lights," he managed and looked at Dean expectantly.</p><p>Dean's face clouded over as he tried to puzzle out what Sam meant then suddenly cleared. "Yes," he agreed, laughing. "The lights." He looked around the room. "We ate at this place—Chuy's—when we were here before. It's down the street from a big park that had a whole bunch of Christmas lights." He grinned at his brother. "And a big tree of lights to spin under. It was pretty cool."</p><p>Sam nodded in satisfaction. "Lights," he said again. He wasn't speaking the way he'd like to, but Sam was glad that he was getting better at communicating.</p><p>The family looked confused, but game. Jake looked at Michael. "Zilker Park's down the street from the original Chury's. We'll have to keep an eye out for it as it gets closer to Christmas."</p><p>"You should. It was awesome."</p><p>"What were you in town for?" Michael had already cleaned his plate and had his legs stretched out where he sat on the floor, back against the wall.</p><p>"Ghost of a little girl who was haunting a hotel here." Dean looked at Sam, clearly not able to remember the name of the hotel and expecting Sam to provide it. <em>The Driskill</em> Sam thought, but knowing it didn't really matter, just shrugged. He saw Dean realize what he'd assumed and grimace an apology. Sam shrugged again and smiled.</p><p>The rest of lunch passed quickly and after they'd cleaned up, Luke and Tommy made the rounds, hugging everyone good-bye. Tommy tried to be careful with Sam, but still left him gasping somewhat at the strength of Tommy's embrace.</p><p>"We'll see you soon," Luke said as he scrubbed a careful hand over Sam's shorn scalp. Sam moved his head away, frowning at Luke with mock displeasure.</p><p>"Soon?" Dean asked, glancing quickly at his brother. There were rumors of Sam being discharged any day, but nothing had been decided as far as Sam knew.</p><p>"Uh..." Luke looked a little caught out.</p><p>Jo waved a dismissive hand at Dean, "We'll talk," she assured him, smiling sunnily. "I'll walk you down," she said to Luke, hooking an arm through his and Tommy's elbow.</p><p>"See ya!" Tommy called as he was led from the room.</p><p>Dean turned his attention to Michael. "Do you know something about Sam getting out of here that we don't?"</p><p>"Not really. Typically for an injury like Sam's, though, there's going to be some rehab needed. We can probably find a facility close by in Austin." He picked up the trash bag full of empty take out containers. "But you'll need a place to stay over the holidays," he added as he left the room.</p><p>Jake slapped Dean on the shoulder as he picked up his school bag, on his way back to the law school. "And Thanksgiving is just around the corner."</p><p>Left alone in the hospital room, Sam and Dean exchanged glances.</p><p>"Well, I guess we know where we're going to be for Thanksgiving," Dean said, somewhat to Sam's surprise, not even fighting the idea that they'd be with the Sweeds for the holiday.</p><p>And for that Sam was glad. "Yes," he agreed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Author's note:</p><p>I started this before last season and the arrival of "God" in the form of Chuck. I'm ignoring that and the Amara storyline. Just so you know.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sam shifted again. He'd known the drive from Austin to the Sweeds' place would probably be uncomfortable for him, but they were one hour into an eight hour trip, and he was pretty sure he was going to go insane before they reached their destination. He rocked from one butt cheek to the other trying to relieve the ache in his hip. He made a noise of discomfort and annoyance.</p><p>"Dude. Seriously." Dean turned from his place in the passenger seat to stare at his brother. "Are you going to do that for the entire trip?"</p><p>Sam caught a glimpse of Jake's grin in the rearview mirror as he turned his attention to his brother.</p><p>"M- maybe," Sam conceded somewhat belligerently. "S- sore."</p><p>Dean raised an obnoxious eyebrow at him. "Use all your words, Sammy," he sing-songed.</p><p>Sam was thankful that while his language skills were not what they had been or what he wanted them to be – yet – his motor responses were no longer impaired. Also, that he had long arms.</p><p>"Hey!" Dean yelped when Sam's hand connected – maybe a little more smartly than Sam had intended – with the back of his brother's head. The Impala swerved slightly. Blue Bear, the giant stuffed animal the boys had gotten Sam fell off its perch on the other side of the bench seat.</p><p>"I'm. Sore," Sam annunciated carefully, sitting back with a satisfied smirk. Both words. No stutter. Then he nodded at the bear on the floor. "Blue. Bear."</p><p>Jake scowled at both of them from behind the wheel. "Don't make me pull this car over."</p><p>Dean raised himself slightly from where he sat and reached over the back of the seat, fumbling for the stuffed animal. He didn't insist that Sam use a full sentence. So success. With an eye roll at his brother, Dean grabbed the bear and tossed/placed it back on the seat. "If you're gonna be so jumpy, I should drive," Dean grumped, shooting a glare at Jake. While Dean had improved greatly over the month Sam had been in rehab, he'd had a relapse of his mono the week before. Doing more than he should, of course. His driving privileges had been revoked—long-distance—by Jo, and he had capitulated only grudgingly. Though he had capitulated.</p><p>Jake gave him a disdainful look and didn't respond. "You wanna stop and stretch, Sam?" Jake asked, checking with Sam in the mirror. "We knew we were going to have to take more breaks than usual. And Gretchen said not to push it with sitting in the car too long."</p><p>Sam's physical therapist had not been thrilled about the idea of a long car ride for him at this stage in his recovery. But he'd been discharged from the rehab facility, and they were headed to the Sweeds' for him to recuperate, so there was no real choice. Sam had known wearing the brace in the car wouldn't be comfortable—and it wasn't—but the long list of physical therapy exercises he had could be done as easily at the Sweeds' as anywhere else.</p><p>Sam had managed to keep Gretchen's disapproval from Jo and initially even the McCrae boys, but one of Michael's connections had ratted Sam out. He suspected that Jake would pull over with or without Sam's saying he needed a break before too long.</p><p>Sam shook his head. "Not. Yet," he said. Took another breath. "S- soon. Though."</p><p>Jake gave Sam a thumbs-up over his shoulder.</p><p>Sam shifted again, careful not to make a sound. But Dean's head still canted slightly in his direction. Stupid squeaky seat.</p><p>When Dean didn't comment, Sam leaned his head against the window, closing his eyes. Though his hair had grown out some, it still wasn't long enough to insulate his head from the cold seeping through the window. Another cold front had blown through Austin the day before, and it looked like there might even be snow at the Sweeds' for Thanksgiving in a couple of days. He wadded up his hoodie and shoved it between his head and the window.</p><p>Sam smiled to himself and the sigh that escaped him at that point wasn't frustration. It was good to be back in the car and on the road, aching leg aside. And to be headed to the Sweeds'. Sam still couldn't quite believe that. That they would be with Jo and Luke for the holidays, for the rest of his recovery. It had been such a long time.</p><p>Jake's classes had been cancelled the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, so he had – of course – decided to skip class on Tuesday. "I told my professors I had to drive my badly injured, but healing, friend home for the holiday," Jake had told Sam breezily when he'd tried to protest Jake's missing any school. "It has the advantage of being both convenient <em>and</em> true."</p><p>Michael had managed to finagle having both Thursday and Friday off. "I'll celebrate the birth of our Savior at the hospital in a few weeks, of course," he'd said ruefully. "But I expected that." He would be arriving late Wednesday night.</p><p>Luke's kids and their families weren't traveling for Thanksgiving, and it was also their Christmas with in-laws, so it would just be the Winchesters with the family. Jo had shown Sam and Dean pictures of Luke's granddaughter, Macy, and it was hard to believe that the adorable four-year-old he'd met so many years ago was now the slightly awkward-looking teenager from the photos on Jo's phone.</p><p>The same actually went for the McCrae boys. All three of them had still been kids when the Winchesters had last seen them, and while Tommy still counted as a kid, Michael and Jake definitely did not – one a doctor and the other starting a second career as a lawyer. Jake, it turned out, had graduated with an engineering degree from Rice and worked for several years with a firm that specialized in civil infrastructure before deciding to go back to law school. He was hoping for an internship with a social justice organization over the summer. Michael was considering medical missions after he had a few years of emergency room experience under his belt. It all sounded so... grown up.</p><p>Tommy's plans for the future seemed to start with "U.T." and pretty much stop there. When asked what he wanted to do after college, he'd shrugged and said vaguely, "I don't know. Be a doctor or a lawyer, I guess?" Luke and Jo had both visibly restrained themselves from commenting and rolling their eyes. Later Jo had said, "I have to keep reminding myself that a lot of kids don't know what they want to do after college. It's just that both Michael and Jake were pretty focused from the get-go." She'd sighed. "He's his own kid, for sure, even if his 'maybe this will make you leave me alone' answer is his brothers' professions."</p><p>Sam had been doing a lot of listening the last few weeks. He'd slowly been able to ask halting questions, but his ability to answer questions himself was still lacking. It was hard. He could tell that Jo had a lot she wanted to ask, but she was trying not to, knowing that Sam would not be able to respond the way they both wanted him to. The speech therapist had been very hopeful and encouraging about Sam's progress. He tried to remind himself of that when he felt frustrated by his continued struggle.</p><p>The trip home took closer to ten hours than eight with all the stops they took for Sam plus meals, and Sam was tired in a way he hadn't really expected considering all he'd been doing was sitting and dozing over the course of the day. He was going to blame that exhaustion for the unexpected lump in his throat and the stinging in his eyes when they pulled into the motel's parking lot and angled around toward the Sweeds' house, lit up and welcoming and <em>missed</em>, behind the small establishment.</p><p>"We're here." Dean's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat awkwardly.</p><p>Jake looked at Dean and then back at Sam as he brought the Impala to a slow stop in front of the house. "Welcome home," he said.</p>
<hr/><p>The door to the house flung wide in response to Jake's tap on the horn, and Tommy was across the porch and down the steps before Dean got his door open.</p><p>"Hey!" Tommy pulled the door all the way open. "You're here!"</p><p>"Looks like," Dean said, shorter than he intended, but <em>damn</em>. He had not been at all prepared for his reaction to being back at the Sweeds'. He gave Tommy a quick apologetic grin before reaching out his hand, giving the boy the gift of helping him out of the car. The trip had worn him out.</p><p>Tommy hadn't faltered, of course, at the bite in Dean's voice, just smiled back and hauled him up and out. "It took y'all long enough," he said, steadying Dean without thought, before opening the back door. "Hey, Sammy! You need help?" He reached a hand in like he was going to pull Sam all the way across the seat and out of the car.</p><p>Dean saw Sam smile somewhat wanly as he shook his head. He was leaning back against the opposite side door. Sam shook his head. "Thanks." He took a breath. "This s- side." Dean was tempted to chide his brother for not using all his words, but decided against it. Sam looked beat.</p><p>Sam shifted awkwardly, easing his leg off the seat and starting to turn himself forward. The brace made the transition kind of difficult.</p><p>Dean started around the car to help Sam out. "Can you get bags, man?" he asked Tommy.</p><p>Tommy nodded and met Jake at the trunk, hugging his brother violently before grabbing a couple of duffels. "I'll put these in your room."</p><p><em> Our room </em>. Still.</p><p>"You got him?" Jake asked, shaking Dean out of his reverie, arms full of things that needed to go inside.</p><p>"Yeah." Dean checked to make sure Sam was no longer using the door as a back rest before opening it. "I got him."</p><p>They'd perfected – or close to it – getting Sam in and out of the car on the way here, but it was still an awkward process that left both Sam and Dean winded. Dean steadied his brother against the side of the car, taking a minute to catch his breath as well.</p><p>"Need these?" Luke had appeared and held out Sam's crutches with a smile.</p><p>"Thanks." Dean took the crutches with a smile in return, glad he wouldn't have to leave Sam unsupported to wrangle the things out of the backseat. Dean angled the shoulder rests toward Sam until his brother reached for crutches, tucking them into his armpits.</p><p>"Where's Jo?" Dean was frankly surprised that she hadn't beat Tommy to the car.</p><p>"Customer issue at the motel," Luke said with a grin. "You should have heard her when that call came in right after you'd texted your ETA." He shook his head. "That guy is either going to get whatever he wants so she can be done with him, or he's going to get a piece of her mind he never wanted to hear."</p><p>Dean laughed out loud, and Sam did, too.</p><p>"Well, let's get you boys inside." Luke looked over his shoulder at Sam as they approached the house. "How are you with steps, kiddo?"</p><p>Sam sighed when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Not the b- best," he said carefully.</p><p>"Slow and steady, man," Dean said taking the crutches, handing them to Luke, and stepping to Sam's side. He slid his shoulder into the place one of the crutches had been. "We got it."</p><p>And they did. Even if both of them were shaky by the time they got to the top.</p><p>"What do you think, boys?" Luke was watching them both, assessing their conditions as they entered the house. "Straight to your room?"</p><p>Dean looked up at his brother, who hadn't moved away or reached for the crutches. Sam was leaning heavily on Dean, jaw tight as he caught his breath, and Dean wondered if he had a headache to deal with as well as the soreness from a long car ride.</p><p>Dean had just opened his mouth to say that their room would probably be best, when he noticed the dog making its way slowly down the stairs to their left. His eyes widened.</p><p>"D-dog?"</p><p>Luke laughed as the dog's tail started to wag more quickly at the sound of his name. "Oh, yeah. Did y'all not know he was still hanging around?"</p><p>"Oh, my God," Sam breathed, carefully pushing off from Dean and limping toward the animal. "Hey, b- buddy. Do you remember m- me?" Awkwardly, Sam leaned over, holding out a hand for the dog to smell. The speed D-dog's tail began to increase to the point that his whole back-end was moving from side-to-side.</p><p>"He's a little deaf and getting blind," Luke said indulgently, "but he's still keeping us in line."</p><p>Dean moved up beside Sam, hands at the ready as Sam lowered himself to one of the bottom stairs that led to the second story of the house. Sam started petting the dog, who began to whine and even yip sharply, continuing to wriggle arthritically. Dean let D-dog sniff his hand briefly before scratching behind the dog's ears. The whining increased in volume and pitch.</p><p>"Do you think he remembers us?" Dean asked, almost in wonder. He looked back at Luke, hand still on the dog. It seemed impossible after all this time. D-dog sank into a sit next to Sam, though his butt continued to move slightly.</p><p>Luke grinned. "I'm gonna guess 'yes,'" he laughed. "Because this –," here he gestured to the dog leaning all his weight on Sam, eyes closed, mouth seeming to smile, while Dean and Sam petted him, "—is not his usual reaction to strangers."</p><p>Both Dean and Sam laughed, continuing to give all their attention to D-dog. Until Dean noticed the cats.</p><p>There were two of them, orange tabbies, sitting a few steps above them, watching. When Dean made eye contact with one, it sauntered down a couple of stairs until it was within reach of Dean. It blinked slowly at him.</p><p>Dean held out a hand, and the cat sniffed it delicately before bumping its head against Dean's knuckles. Obediently, Dean scratched its ears. He looked over his shoulder at Luke again.</p><p>"That's Pippin; his brother is Merry."</p><p>Sam grinned and shook his head; Dean rolled his eyes as he sat down on the stair next to Sam. "Nerds."</p><p>Merry sidled over to nudge his brother out of the way and bump his own head against Dean.</p><p>"Well, yeah," Luke agreed.</p><p>They continued to pet the animals until Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Up?" he asked, looking at his brother.</p><p>Resisting again the urge to insist Sam speak in a full sentence, Dean scrambled to his feet and pulled his brother to a standing position.</p><p>"I think we will head to our room," Dean said, returning to the question Luke had asked before they'd been distracted by the critters. "Sam could probably use some Tylenol." He glanced at his brother, who nodded in agreement.</p><p>"I'll get you some water, then. And food? Y'all hungry?" Luke was already on his way to the kitchen.</p><p>"Thanks. No food, I think. We ate not too long ago."</p><p>Sam nodded here, too.</p><p>Dean steered Sam toward the back of the house.</p><p>"Tommy, get out of Dean and Sam's room!" Luke hollered as he headed into the kitchen.</p><p>"What?" Tommy yelled in response to Luke's earlier shout, exiting the hall that led to the Winchesters' room. "I was just waiting to see..."</p><p>"Go see if you can help your mother," Luke shouted back, now in the other room. "The boys want to rest!"</p><p>"Hey! Where is mom?" Jake called from the front of the house.</p><p>"She's at the motel," Tommy yelled, though Dean wasn't sure why given that Jake was now almost in the same room as the kid. "Some dude...!"</p><p>"Why are you yelling?" Luke shouted as he came out of the kitchen. He did actually modulate his voice as he entered the room. "Dean and Sam are exhausted and all this noise..." He blinked when saw Sam and Dean standing, almost frozen, in the middle of the family room. "I thought y'all were going to bed."</p><p>Dean cleared his throat. "We're headed that way," he said. "Man." He turned to his brother. "I'd forgotten the noise level in this house."</p><p>Sam to Dean's surprise, grinned at him. "M- missed it," he said.</p><p>Dean stared for a beat, then threw back his head and laughed. "Me, too."</p>
<hr/><p>They were still working out the bed time prep for Sam, since he'd only been out of the rehab center a couple of days. Obviously, Sam could do most things himself, but getting in and out of pants made for some interesting maneuvers on both their parts. And tonight Sam was so exhausted, he was clumsy and uncoordinated, fumbling the brace off first, then struggling with button and zipper until Dean had finally told him to suck it up before divesting his brother of his jeans and working him into his pajama pants.</p><p>"Th- thanks," Sam said with a sigh and a slight slur. "S- sorry." Sam's enunciation regressed when he was tired.</p><p>"Shut up," Dean said, and Sam smiled.</p><p>They'd gotten Sam his Tylenol and their teeth brushed and were just sliding under the covers when there was a knock on the door.</p><p>"Boys?"</p><p>"Jo," Dean grinned. He got out of bed and caught the door as she eased it open.</p><p>"Hey," she said, slipping in and giving Dean a tight hug. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here when you got home."</p><p>"'s okay," Dean reassured her, sitting back on his bed.</p><p>"Oh, honey, don't try to get up," she scolded Sam, moving around Dean's bed to lean down and give Sam a hug. She perched on the edge of Sam's bed.</p><p>"I won't stay long. I just wanted to say 'hi' and tell you how glad we are that you're here."</p><p>"It's good to be home," Dean said. And blinked. It had slipped out unbidden. <em>Home</em>.</p><p>Jo's smile deepened, but she didn't given any other indication that she'd noticed. "Well," she said. "I'll let you two get some sleep." As she rose, she leaned over to kiss Sam on the cheek. Then did the same to Dean where he sat on his own bed.</p><p>"See you in the morning."</p>
<hr/><p>Wednesday had been a lazy day. Both Dean and Sam had slept until late in the morning, rising to the scent of coffee and pancakes and bacon. The whole family had lingered at the breakfast table, a winter storm making it easy to stay where they were until they just had to move.</p><p>Sam's own movement had only been from the kitchen table to the sofa in the family room, where Jake had just started a rewatch-binge of <em>Lost</em> from the beginning of the series. Never having seen the whole show and clad comfortably in his flannel pajama bottoms and long-sleeve t-shirt, Sam had settled in for the long haul.</p><p>Jo had exclaimed in some dismay when she'd seen what they were watching. "Oh don't start it now, sweetheart! Can you at least wait until after dinner tomorrow? You know you're not going to want to stop, and I'm going to need your help with getting ready." She'd narrowed her eyes at both of them. "Plus, Jake, I thought you had a major assignment due on Monday. And Sam what about your PT?"</p><p>Both had mumbled vague assurances that they would help with dinner and get their work done, but had immediately forgotten their promises by the time Jo had left the room. They'd watched without much pause until midnight, when Jo declared a <em>Lost</em>-moratorium until Thanksgiving was over.</p><p>When Sam woke Thursday morning, he ate his breakfast and did his PT exercises. Then he sat on the couch and stared longingly at the TV until Luke came in and turned on a football game. Sam felt strangely twitchy and was somewhat concerned he might be going through withdrawal—football, evidently, would not settle his craving to know what was going to happen next on <em>Lost</em>. Restless and sad, he crutched into the kitchen where Jo and Jake were.</p><p>"Here." Jo directed him toward the kitchen table where a pile of green beans sat on a towel. "Snap these for me. It will be a distraction." She patted him on the shoulder. "Until you can get your fix."</p><p>Sam sighed his most put-upon sigh as he took a seat. But he set to work obediently, dropping the finished product into a bowl Jo set beside him.</p><p>Jo had put the turkey in the oven early in the morning and the smell of it cooking was starting to fill the house with a wondrous scent. She was working on something else now – rinsing whatever it was off in the sink. In the family room, Sam could hear the announcers over the sound of Luke and Dean arguing about which game to settle on.</p><p>"How are you doing, sugar?" Jo set a cutting board on the table across from Sam and placed a bowl next to it.</p><p>Sam shrugged and smiled to indicate he was doing fine, but realized when she cocked an eyebrow at him, that Jo wasn't going to let him get away with not speaking.</p><p>"I'm o- okay. Thanks."</p><p>"You're really doing so much better with your speech. I can tell already."</p><p>Sam shrugged again. "It feels s- slow." And it did. Like he was never going to be where he wanted, doomed to speak in halting sentence with slightly stuttered words that took forever to get out, forcing others to wait and wait until he could articulate what he wanted to say. He knew (he'd been told) that likely wouldn't be his situation. But it felt like that most of the time.</p><p>"What are those?" Sam couldn't see what was in the bowl. And he didn't want to talk about his recovery.</p><p>"Brussel sprouts." Jo let him distract her. She put one little green ball on the cutting board and trimmed up the end of it before halving it and moving it aside.</p><p>Sam couldn't help the face he made.</p><p>"Hold your judgment." Jo pointed her knife at him. "There's bacon involved."</p><p>
  <em> Huh. </em>
</p><p>"Yeah." Jake turned from where he was rolling out pie dough. "She's made a believer out of all us on the Brussel sprouts."</p><p>"Huh." Sam let the doubt he felt color his grunt. But still. Bacon.</p><p>"Do you have speech exercises to do?" Evidently, Jo had not really been distracted from Sam's recovery, and she'd seen him working on his PT that morning.</p><p>Sam sighed. He should have realized he wasn't going to be able to avoid talking about this with her. "Yes." He tried to think through how best to describe what he was working on. "Read off..." He paused, went back. "I... read off scripts... It helps to practice..." He took a breath. "Regular c- conversations."</p><p>Dean wrote out the scripts for him sometimes. The speech therapist had suggested Dean get down on paper some typical conversations for Sam, so that Sam could work through every day speech. The good news was that Sam's ability to read had improved considerably. He could read words better than he could speak them. And the scripts had actually been pretty helpful. Dean, of course, had written out a number of scenarios that he didn't show the therapist—filled with bad language and things he thought would embarrass Sam. Sam practiced those on Dean over and over until Dean had finally thrown them away in a huff. But they really had helped Sam cuss his brother out much more articulately than he could manage other conversations.</p><p>"That's interesting," Jo said. "Like what kind of conversations?"</p><p>"Like ordering in a r- restaurant," Sam said. Not that that had come up much recently. But it would.</p><p>"What can I get for you, sugar?" Jake asked the question, voice pitched in a surprising imitation of Jo when she was waiting tables in the diner, moving to join them at the table with his rolled out pie crust and the pie pan.</p><p>Jo slapped at Jake as Sam grinned and played along. "A hamburger, please. And a chocolate milkshake." The answer flowed without stutters or pauses.</p><p>Jo put her knife down and clapped appreciatively. Sam inclined his head graciously.</p><p>"That's actually really impressive, Sam," Jo said. "Especially when I think about where you started."</p><p>"Yeah." Sam snapped a couple more beans. "I know I'm g- getting better," he admitted. "Just not fast enough." He gave her a rueful grin.</p><p>Jo nodded her understanding. "And the leg?"</p><p>"It's d- doing okay. Surgery wounds healed p- pretty easily. Just working on building up my strength n- now." Weirdly, the length of time it was taking for Sam to get back on his feet with the broken leg didn't frustrate him as much as not being able to speak. (Though Dean asserted that it wasn't weird at all given Sam's propensity for talking everything through.) Sam figured at least part of the reason was that he'd dealt with broken bones before and knew exactly what to expect. The speech thing felt much bigger and unknown.</p><p>"Do you have to wear the brace that whole time?" asked Jake.</p><p>"Mostly." He paused, gathering his thoughts for the next part of his answer. "We thought I could check in with R- Rob about that." The local doctor had become a friend along the way.</p><p>"I'm sure he'd be happy to look at it, honey," Jo assured him. She put the trimmed and halved Brussel sprouts back in the now empty bowl and took it over to the counter to finish getting the vegetable ready for dinner.</p><p>Finished with the green beans, Sam got to his feet and carefully carried the bowl to the counter as well. "I'm going to watch f- football," he said.</p><p>"OK. Will you please remind Tommy that he needs to set the table in about 20 minutes?"</p><p>According to Luke, there was some mysterious preparation schedule that Jo carried in her head and that magically resulted in everything being ready at the same time for the meal. Luke said no one knew it or understood it except Jo, but that the timing was exact and that dishes went into and out of the oven in a particular order. "Just do what she tells you to do when she tells you to do it and everything will be fine."</p><p>"Sure," Sam said obediently.</p><p>Tommy nodded his acknowledgment of the instructions as he shifted over on the couch so that he was in the middle, and Sam could use the arm to ease himself down next to him.</p><p>"That's also probably my cue that I need to deal with the rolls," Luke said. He got up from one of the recliners, picking up the cat on his lap. He dropped the cat – Merry, Sam thought – onto Tommy's lap. The cat did not seem bothered by its change in position, kneading Tommy's knee for a couple of seconds before curling up and settling down.</p><p>Sam squinted at the screen, reaching over to pet the rumbling feline. "Who's playing?"</p><p>"A&amp;M and Texas," said Michael shortly. He was sitting on the other side of the couch.</p><p>"The Aggies are losing," Tommy stage whispered to Sam. "It's making him grumpy."</p><p>Without taking his eyes off the screen, Michael turned and punched his little brother twice – hard – on the arm. Tommy yelped, turned to hit back, but then settled again when Merry meowed his protest a being jostled. Amazing what a cat in one's lap could do to keep the peace.</p><p>"How are things looking in there?" Dean asked from the other recliner. He also had a cat on his lap. Neither of the Winchesters had been sure about the feline additions to the household when they'd first arrived, but they had been won over quickly by the two tabbies. Sam and Dean had both learned the unique comfort of having a purring cat heavy in the middle of your back as you fell asleep at night. Sam was considering suggesting that they get a couple of cats when they got back to the bunker. For the moment, he was ignoring the obvious impracticalities of the idea given how much they traveled.</p><p>That morning, to Sam's surprise, his brother had gotten up early and helped Jo get the turkey in the oven. "What?" Dean had said when Sam had raised an eyebrow at him to express his shock. "We might need to make a turkey some time," he'd said defensively.</p><p>"Jo's making Brussel sprouts," Sam said. He deliberately addressed the one side dish he knew Dean wasn't going to be happy about.</p><p>"What?" Dean sounded both disgusted and disappointed. "Gross."</p><p>"She uses bacon," Sam offered.</p><p>Dean's eyebrows drew down in confusion. "Bacon and Brussel sprouts?" he said doubtfully. "That just sounds like a way to ruin good bacon."</p><p>Sam shrugged, deciding not to add the reassurances Jake had offered about how good they were. Michael and Tommy, absorbed in the game didn't comment either. With the exception of Tommy, who got called in to set the table, the rest of them didn't stir until dinner time.</p><p>It turned out that both Dean and Sam were converts to the bacon-cooked sprouts, Dean managing to finish off the bowl before asking for the recipe.</p><p>Dean and Sam were excused from dinner clean up due to injury and illness much to their delight.</p><p>"I'll have coffee and pie in the family room," Dean said loftily to Jake as he passed him.</p><p>"Yeah, yeah," responded Jake, already taking the Winchesters' plates to the sink. "Keep your pants on."</p><p>"Don't you start <em>Lost</em> back up again, Sam," Jo said. She pulled a bag of coffee out of the freezer.</p><p>"B- but d- dinner is over," Sam protested, almost in a wail. He wobbled some as he stood up from the table.</p><p>"But Thanksgiving Day isn't," she said smugly. "I have something else in mind."</p><p>Dean narrowed his eyes at her. "We're not watching Anne of Green Gables again." He wanted to make it a statement of authority, but it came out like more of a question.</p><p>"You should be so lucky, Dean Winchester," she said. "You know you loved it."</p><p>He actually had. He also may have bought the sequel and watched it in the bunker when Sam was asleep. Not that he was going to admit that. So he just frowned at Jo as if he were offended by her assumption.</p><p>Sam was upright now and leaning on his crutches. He looked at Jo forlornly. "But..."</p><p>"What's your proposal?" Dean demanded.</p><p>"It's not a proposal," Jo corrected. "It's <em>Pride and Prejudice</em>." She met the glare directed at her calmly.</p><p>Dean opened his mouth and closed it again. <em>What?</em> He looked around at the other men in the room for support. Which did not appear to be forth-coming.</p><p>"The C- Colin Firth one?"</p><p>Dean's head snapped to his brother.</p><p>"Of course." Jo was looking at Sam approvingly.</p><p>"Oh. Okay." Sam turned and limped out of the room.</p><p>Dean's head swiveled to Jo and then to Sam's retreating back and then to Jo again.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow at him.</p><p>"Fine," he huffed.</p><p>When Dean got out to the living room, Sam was getting settled on the sofa.</p><p>"'The Colin Firth one'?" Dean mocked. "I'm concerned that you know there's more than one <em>Pride and Prejudice</em> movie."</p><p>Sam shrugged. "J- Jess loved the C- Colin Firth mini-series. What was I going to say when she wanted to show it to me?" He smiled at his brother.</p><p>"And the other one?"</p><p>"It came out while we were d- dating." He shrugged again. "She wanted to see it."</p><p>Well, okay. Dean could understand that. He dropped down next to his brother on the couch.</p><p>"Still." He looked at Sam out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>"It's actually really g- good," Sam said. Then with a twitch of his lips and a sly glance, "Like Anne of Green Gable: The Sequel good."</p>
<hr/><p>Luke wrestled his boots off in the screened porch and then eased the door into the kitchen open. Theoretically, everyone should be sound asleep, but in the quiet early hours of the morning it was hard not to believe that the slightest noise would disturb the whole house. He'd been called out right at bedtime for a bad accident and only just finished with the last of the paperwork.</p><p>He was surprised to see Sam at the kitchen table with a book open in front of him. Luke knew that Sam's injury had had an impact on Sam's ability to read, slowing him down considerably and keeping Sam from enjoying what he always had before. Sam smiled slightly as Luke shut the door behind him.</p><p>"Hey, man," Luke said quietly. "What are you doing up?"</p><p>"Leg cramp," Sam said. "Couldn't fall back to sleep."</p><p>The doctor had told Sam he could put the brace away for most of the day and use it only when he felt the leg needed it. Luke knew Sam was trying to navigate the thin line between building up his leg and not overdoing it. He'd overdone it the day before, and evidently his leg was letting him know it wasn't happy.</p><p>"Bummer."</p><p>"'Yeah," Sam agreed. He nodded toward the book. "I've been trying to get this finished for a while now anyway." He paused. "How's the weather?" he asked as Luke turned on the fire under the kettle and then reached for a mug and a teabag.</p><p>Luke held up a second teabag to Sam, who nodded. "Pretty ugly," he said. "Glad to be back inside."</p><p>It had been ice on the road that had caused the car, driven by an older man, to skid over the line and collide with a Tahoe filled with high schoolers. There hadn't been any casualties, praise the Lord, but three out of four of the teenagers and the driver of the original car had been hospitalized. Luke had been called in as back up since the accident was a county over, so he hadn't had to make the calls to the parents. He hated those calls. Working the scene had its challenges—wind and almost frozen rain—but he'd rather spend time in the elements than have to wake mothers and fathers to tell them their children had been hurt.</p><p>"I bet." Sam kneaded at his thigh just above the knee. He didn't seem to realize he was even doing it.</p><p>"You take your meds for the cramping?" Luke asked.</p><p>Sam pulled his hand away from his leg. "Yeah," he said with a grimace. "Just haven't k- kicked in quite yet."</p><p>Sam went back to his book while they waited for the water to boil. When the whistle started, Luke turned the heat off quickly and fixed both mugs.</p><p>"Thanks." Sam took the mug, blowing gently before taking a careful sip.</p><p>Luke studied Sam for a minute. "Hey. So I don't think I ever heard exactly what happened with that house collapsing on you." At the time he and Tommy had left for home, Sam still hadn't been able to talk, and the hows of the accident had been the least of the concerns they'd had for Sam.</p><p>Sam's eyebrows went up. "You d- didn't?"</p><p>"No," Luke admitted. "Not sure how that got by me." He cocked a head at Sam. "You mind telling the story again?"</p><p>Sam shrugged. "N-not a lot to tell, really."</p><p>"Good." Luke smiled. "I need to get to bed."</p><p>Sam laughed. "OK." He took a breath and seemed to be considering how best to start. "Well, you know D- Dean was sick. He had crashed really early that afternoon. S- said he was just tired, but I could tell it was more than that. So after he fell asleep, I d- decided to go to the drug store. We were low on f- flu meds, and I figured that was what he had. There was a Walgreens close by, so I thought I'd walk."</p><p>Sam paused for a moment to take a drink of his tea. "I had to go right by the house we were investigating. It was almost dark outside, and I was walking by I could see lights inside." He rolled his eyes. "It was H- Halloween so of <em>course</em> kids were in there. The ghost wasn't supposed to show for another week, but you never know, so I went in to see what was going on. There were people in the basement, and I figured I'd go down and tell them I was a security guard or something and get them out. When I got d- down the stairs, there were a couple of separate groups poking around and trying to scare each other. So I yelled at them for trespassing and sent them out. But just as they were about to reach the stairs, the ceiling started to come down. It was already a low enough that I could get my hands up to try to hold things up until they were out, but I couldn't hold it long, and the whole thing came down."</p><p>Luke whistled. "Wow, Sam. That's incredible. I knew some of the kids said you'd kept it from being worse than it could have been, but I didn't realize it was because you'd held up the house."</p><p>Sam flushed. "Well, it wasn't very long."</p><p>"Still, son. That's impressive." He cocked his head at Sam. "So was it poor Emily Johnson, do you think?"</p><p>"Honestly, I don't think it was. The house was in really bad shape, and people had been tromping through it all day. At least there wasn't any manifestation of her that I noticed. I think it was just bad luck." Here he gave Luke a sardonic look. "Which is par for the course, really."</p><p>Luke shrugged and gave Sam a small grin. "Well, you survived. And saved the lives of a number of people." He drained the last of the tea from his mug. "So I'm not sure I'd qualify that as 'bad' luck, kiddo."</p><p>Sam shook his head. "It's always glass half-full for you, man."</p><p>Luke laughed as he got up and clapped Sam on the shoulder when he passed him on the way out of the kitchen. "Good night, Sam."</p><p>"Night."</p>
<hr/><p>It was almost two weeks until Christmas when Dean made the suggestion.</p><p>"You want to do Christmas at the bunker?" Sam clarified.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>"Why not?"</p><p>Sam thought about it. "I don't know." He cocked his head to one side. "Have you talked to Jo about it?"</p><p>Dean shook his head. "I wanted to check with you first." He sat on the bed across from Sam. "I think we could do it. You're a lot more mobile, and I watched Jo do the turkey at Thanksgiving." He squinted at Sam, and Sam realized his brother was nervous about making the suggestion. "I mean. It might be cool to invite them to... to our place, I guess?"</p><p>Sam was surprised by the uncertainty in Dean's voice and, frankly, by his own surprise at the idea of hosting the Sweeds for a holiday.</p><p>"I hadn't thought about that," Sam said slowly. "We'd have to, like, get there before them and clean up and stuff."</p><p>"Yeah," Dean agreed.</p><p>"I guess we do have sheets and towels for everyone, don't we?" The linen closet in the bunker was fully stocked for housing however many Men of Letters had been living there.</p><p>Dean nodded. "It's not like we have to go crazy with the decorating or anything, and we've got the room." He paused. "Right?"</p><p>"Yeah." Sam tried to think through the logistics. They'd probably need a week or so to get the bunker into shape if they weren't going to exhaust themselves and risk a relapse for Dean or a setback for Sam's leg. But if they took their time and were careful not to overdo...</p><p>"You think it's too much." Dean's voice startled Sam out of his thoughts. He sounded disappointed.</p><p>"No," Sam said hurriedly. "No. I just... I was thinking through what all we'd need to do to get the place ready."</p><p>Dean's face lit up. "Yeah? It's not too much, right?"</p><p>"No. I think we could totally do it."</p><p>"Cool."</p>
<hr/><p>Sam stood at the end of the hall, hands on his hips, and heaved a sigh of satisfaction. They'd done it. Each of the bedrooms off the corridor had fresh sheets on the beds, floors that had been swept, and furniture that had been dusted. It wasn't fancy, but it was clean.</p><p>Dean came up behind him. "Tree next?"</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>Sam felt a surge of satisfaction that he'd managed the word without a pause or a stutter. He and Dean had done a good job, Sam thought, of pacing themselves over the week they'd been back, taking each room in turn and cleaning the common areas of the bunker at a speed that had kept either of them from relapsing. Sam had to admit that he felt tired at the moment, but it was a good kind of tired. But any time Dean heard Sam struggle with a word he took it as a sign to shut things down immediately. And Sam was looking forward to picking out the tree.</p><p>It had been cold the last few days, so they bundled up for the trip to the tree lot. Sam blew on his hands, rubbing them together as they walked the long row of trees. Sam had brought one of the crutches, just in case, but so far he'd managed pretty well.</p><p>"What about this one?" Dean pulled a nice-sized tree away from the others leaning up against the fence.</p><p>"Turn it around." Sam eyed the thin branches in the middle of the tree. "It's got a bare patch, there," he said, pointing.</p><p>Dean shoved the tree back into place. They walked a few more steps. "This one?" He pulled out another.</p><p>"I don't know," Sam hedged. "The branches are so close together it might be hard to hang ornaments."</p><p>Dean cocked his head to the side, studying the tree. "Yeah." He looked around as he let the tree fall back against the others. "Let's walk all the rows and see what our options are," he suggested.</p><p>"Good idea," Sam agreed. "Hot chocolate?" There was a snack stand at the end of the row they were on.</p><p>"Sure."</p><p>Chocolate in hand, they wandered the rows, each pulling out the occasional tree for inspection, but seeming to have decided without saying so that they wouldn't make a decision until they'd seen all the options.</p><p>"I like the spruces," Dean said after they'd finished their circuit of the lot. "They're cool looking and there's lots of space between the branches." He looked at Sam. "Optimal ornament hanging."</p><p>Sam nodded. "Agreed."</p><p>The tree they decided on was tall and expensive. Neither of them cared. Any time they'd managed trees when they'd been kids, the tree had been, by necessity, small and cheap. Sam, of course, had always longed for a "normal" tree—tall and full and packed with ornaments. As adults they hadn't had a tree together since the Christmas before Dean's deal had come due.</p><p>This tree might just be Sam's ideal of a Christmas tree, and he was a little embarrassed by how happy it made him.</p><p>They'd brought a blanket to protect the Impala's roof when they tied the tree to the top of the car, and Sam had googled how to care for the tree to make it last as long as possible. The tree stand they bought at the lot seemed like it would hold a good amount of water to keep the spruce from drying out too quickly.</p><p>It took them longer than Sam would have thought possible to get the tree off the car, down the stairs, and set up in the bunker. By the time the tree was upright and watered in its corner of the library, Sam was exhausted. Dean looked a little pale himself.</p><p>"So." Dean sat in one of the library chairs. He was trying to hide the fact that he was panting some. "That'll do for now, right?"</p><p>"Right." Sam eased down next to his brother. They sat in silence for a long time.</p><p>"It's a good tree," Dean said softly.</p><p>"Yeah," Sam agreed. He didn't want to ask, because thinking about it made him tired, but, "What about ornaments?"</p><p>Dean let out a breath and thought about it for a while. "What if we wait 'til the Sweeds get here?" He turned to Sam. "We could pick out what we want together, and they could get what they want?"</p><p>The Sweeds were due to arrive the next day, so the tree wouldn't sit bare for very long.</p><p>"Yeah. Good."</p>
<hr/><p>"This is the right place?" Jo looked through the windshield of the Suburban doubtfully. They were out in the middle of nowhere, though there was a large industrial building to their right with an odd door in the side of the hill. She ran a settling hand over D-dog's back where he sat between her and Luke in the front seat of the car. The dog was too polite to climb into her lap in an effort to get to the door, but she could tell he wanted to.</p><p>"These are the coordinates they sent," Luke said, glancing down at his phone.</p><p>"Who sends <em>coordinates</em> as directions, anyway?" Jake asked from the backseat. He, too, was peering out the window. "It looks abandoned."</p><p>"Are they squatting here?" Michael had actually managed to get the holiday off from the hospital. He eased his door open.</p><p>"Surely not," said Jo getting out of the car and turning to lift the old dog out. She set the dog on the ground and put her hands on her hips, studying both the building and the metal door set in the side of the hill. She couldn't imagine that the boys would invite them someplace that wasn't a permanent – or permanent for them – home base.</p><p>"Cool!" said Tommy as he crowded behind Michael, trying to get out and see for himself. He wiggled past his brother and out the door. "Should we knock?"</p><p>"I guess?" The door was heavy metal, down a couple of steps and set into the brick wall of a round concrete bunker-looking thing. It was very strange.</p><p>Tommy dodged around the rest of the family moving more uncertainly toward the entrance, jumped down the stairs and banged a fist against the door. It made a dull thumping sound that didn't seem to carry very far. He reached for the handle.</p><p>Jake was not far behind and slapped his brother's hand away. "Dude, give them a chance to answer before you barge in."</p><p>Tommy scowled. "They just walk into our house."</p><p>"Yes, well. We gave them a key," said Jo. "Plus. This is the first time we've been here. We should let them, I don't know, greet us officially." She looked back at Luke. "I think it's a very big deal that we've been invited here."</p><p>"Maybe I should call and let them..."</p><p>The door swung open and there stood Dean.</p><p>"Hey! Come on in!"</p><p>He stepped back and hugged each of them as they walked through the door. "Sam's downstairs. If we waited for him to make it up here, it'd be hours."</p><p>Jo laughed as she hugged him, then turned toward the interior of the ... Warehouse? Apartment? Space? And gasped.</p><p>They were standing on a balcony that opened into a large, beautifully constructed room. It looked like a control room of some sort with old-fashioned-looking machinery. Beyond that she could see into a second room that looked like a library: large wooden tables and shelves of books.</p><p>"Dean," she whispered, turning to look at him.</p><p>"Yeah," he smiled. "Welcome."</p><p>Sam came through the library as the Sweeds walked down the stairs, Tommy bouncing down ahead of everyone else and enveloping Sam in a hug.</p><p>"This is beautiful," Jo said after greeting Sam, walking further into the room with the books and the tables. "How long have you been here?" She paused. "Where <em>is </em>here?"</p><p>"It's been a few years now," Sam said. "It belonged to a group called the Men of Letters. They were, hunters of sorts, really." He reached down to pat D-dog, who had followed the family slowly down the stairs.</p><p>"Really?" Luke had noticed Tommy noticing the sword on display. "Stop," he said when Tommy reached for it. "Were they a society or a club or something?"</p><p>Dean snorted. He had lowered himself to the floor and was running his hands over D-dog who had essentially climbed into his lap. "Kind of. They were a group that thought they were better than ordinary hunters like us."</p><p>"What happened to them and how did you find this place?"</p><p>"The Men of Letters got wiped out in the 50s. And. Our grandfather gave us the key." Dean looked up at Sam with a grimace.</p><p>"Your grandfather? I didn't know you had family still living." Jo looked taken aback.</p><p>"Welllll," Dean hedged. "We don't. He... It's actually a pretty complicated story. Maybe later?"</p><p>"Of course," said Jo with a smile, though she knew that unless she pressed she'd likely never here the story at all.</p><p>"That's a nice tree." Jake was standing next to a large, really spectacular-looking spruce, tucked into the far corner of the room.</p><p>"We got it yesterday, but we don't have any lights or ornaments." Dean looked a little self-conscious. He got to his feet and shrugged, glancing at Jo. "This is the first time we've done Christmas here, actually."</p><p>Jo smiled at him, heart warmed that this was a special thing for the Winchesters, saddened that they hadn't had this before.</p><p>"Well, we can help with <em>that</em>," Jo said. She put her purse and coat on one of the tables. "Give us the tour!"</p><p>The bunker – as the Winchesters called it – was enormous. Multiple bedrooms and bathrooms, an industrial kitchen, and a garage with cars that had struck the men in her life speechless in awe and reverence. Even Jo, who wasn't much of a car person, could appreciate the beauty of the vehicles in that room.</p><p>She'd left her husband and children in the garage and wandered back to the kitchen. Sam was only a minute behind her, walking with just the slightest of limps.</p><p>"They'll be talking c- cars and engines for hours," Sam said with a sigh.</p><p>Jo laughed, taking more in-depth stock of the room around her. She scanned the open shelves against one wall and <em>so</em> wanted to open the refrigerator and cabinets to see what else was there, but she restrained herself. "This place is amazing, Sam," she said.</p><p>"Yeah." Sam laughed and shook his head. "It's really become home."</p><p>"I'm so glad for you both," Jo said. She moved toward the fridge, reached for the handle, then let her hand drop, turning back toward Sam.</p><p>"It took me a little longer than Dean to, I don't know, embrace that idea. But I'm glad I did."</p><p>"Really?" Jo opened one of the cabinets, peeking inside before she caught herself and quickly tried to close the door.</p><p>"Yeah." Sam caught the door before it shut, reaching in and pulling out a bag of chips. "Dean made guacamole. Want some?"</p><p>"Sure." Jo twined the fingers of both hands together so she wouldn't nose into what wasn't any of her business. She sat down at the table and thought about what Sam had just said. It surprised her for some reason that Dean had been more willing to settle into a home than Sam. Although, at one point as a child, Dean had had that comfort. Sam never really had. Letting yourself make some place home might take some time if you weren't used to that.</p><p>"Beer?"</p><p>Jo nodded. Sam pulled a bowl out of the fridge and put it down in front of her with the chips. Then he took a couple of beer bottles in hand, opening each with an easy twist. Sliding one bottle across to Jo, Sam took a seat, opened the bag and held it out to her. Jo took a chip, dragged it through the guac, and put in her mouth. Her eyes widened. "Wow. That is good."</p><p>Sam laughed. "Dean watched Jake make guacamole a couple of times while we were with them. He's got some cooking skills, I have to admit."</p><p>They munched their way through a significant portion of the guacamole.</p><p>"You know, you can make yourself at home," Sam said, finally. "Our kitchen in your kitchen, so you should feel free to, I don't know, see what's in the fridge or open any cabinets you want." He smirked at her.</p><p>Jo felt her face get warm, and she couldn't help the bark of a laugh that escaped. <em>Caught</em>. Of course Sam had noticed. She grinned. "Really? I don't want to interfere with what you two have planned, I just..." She was already out of the chair, chip and beer in one hand, reaching for the refrigerator door.</p><p>Sam laughed. "I think the plan at the moment is 'cook a turkey.' Anything else is up in the air as far as I know."</p><p>The contents of the fridge looked promising. Luke had put the lasagna she'd made on one of the middle of the shelves and while there was a <em>lot </em>of beer, there was also milk and some lettuce and tomatoes. Jo moved on to the cabinets, finishing off the chip in her hand and making a list in her head. They'd need some spices. It looked like salt and pepper and garlic powder were the only flavorings the boys had been using.</p><p>She looked at the clock. It was just after five. "Sam, how do you turn on this oven? Let's get it heated, and I'll put dinner in." She hesitated. "Unless y'all had something else planned?"</p><p>Sam looked a little caught off guard. "Uh. I don't think we'd actually thought of that." He squinted at her. "We have cereal?"</p><p>"Let's save that for breakfast," she suggested with a laugh.</p><p>Sam got up to turn on the old stove, and Jo watched closely. The oven roared to life, and Jo went back to the table, sitting down and reaching for another chip.</p><p>It was only a few minutes before they were joined first by Michael, then Jake, then finally Luke, Dean, Tommy, and the dog. The chips and guacamole were gone only minutes later.</p>
<hr/><p>"Good morning."</p><p>Dean gave Jo an acknowledging jerk of his chin as he headed to the coffee maker.</p><p>It wasn't particularly early in the morning, but the rest of the family was still asleep. The long drive the day before and the late night catching up had worn everyone out apparently.</p><p>"Nice robe," Jo said once Dean had gotten coffee in his mug. "And slippers." She was biting back a smile.</p><p>"What?" Dean looked down at himself. <em>Right</em>. "It's comfortable," he shrugged. <em>Feels homey</em>, he didn't say.</p><p>"I've never seen you wear a robe before." Jo said, taking a sip of coffee and peering at him over her mug. She was smoothing a hand over D-dog's head that was resting on her thigh. The dog had only shifted his eyes to look at Dean when he'd come in the room.</p><p>Dean joined her at the table. "I don't wear it on the road." Though maybe he should consider taking the slippers, at least. Some of the motel carpets were <em>nasty</em>.</p><p>"Home kinds of things, huh?" Jo guessed, smile now apparent, kind and understanding.</p><p>Dean shrugged his acceptance of that, but didn't acknowledge it out loud.</p><p>They sat in comfortable silence for a while.</p><p>"So. Can I ask you a question?" Jo's voice was quiet.</p><p>Dean smiled slightly, but didn't look at her. "Sure."</p><p>She still hesitated, but finally said, "I wanted to ask before, but... seeing you at home like this... It's made me wonder again." She paused. "Lisa and Ben?"</p><p>Dean felt his heart still at the question and when he didn't respond immediately, she went on, "You sent us those pictures, and you seemed ... happy, I think?"</p><p>"Yeah," Dean agreed. Even after all this time, that one hurt a little. "We were. And they were... amazing. But. When Sam came back, things were complicated and ... I put them in danger." He drank his coffee. "I couldn't stay."</p><p>When he looked over at Jo, she was watching him, a sad expression on her face. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."</p><p>Dean glanced away. "It was a long time ago."</p><p>"Do you... do you ever see them?"</p><p>Dean shook his head, didn't tell her about Cas's erasing him from their lives. "No. It was better to make a clean break." He did check on them some, but he hadn't seen them in person since that day.</p><p>"Has there been anyone else?" she asked. "Anyone special?"</p><p>"Hey."</p><p>Both Jo and Dean startled a little, heads turning toward the door into the kitchen as Jake wandered in. He didn't speak again, just made a beeline for the coffee.</p><p>Jo raised an eyebrow at Dean, not deterred by the presence of another person in the room.</p><p>Dean shook his head again. He thought about Melanie sometimes, the girl from psychic-town, but... "Nah." He turned now and gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "But it's okay, Jo. It really is." It was hard to explain, but it <em>was</em> alright. He and Sam had managed a good life together—one with purpose and a contentedness Dean wouldn't ever have anticipated.</p><p>"I'm glad."</p><p>Dean hufffed out a laugh, giving her a smile. "Yeah," he agreed. "Me, too." He waited for a second until Jake had raised his coffee mug to his lips, taking a sip. "You know Jakey's been seeing Daisy, right?" Dean had been surprised to find out that the girl Jake had been best friends with and considered dating in high school actually lived in Austin, too.</p><p>To his credit, Jake didn't spit his coffee out, though he did seem to swallow a hot mouthful sooner than he'd planned.</p><p>While the kid was spluttering and coughing, Jo said serenely. "Of course, I do, sweetheart." She gave Jake a jaundiced look. "No thanks to my child, though." At Dean's puzzled frown, Jo reached over and patted Dean's arm. "We live in a small town, honey. People talk. Even when the people involved have moved away."</p><p>"Ugh." Jake groaned. "We've only gone out a couple of times."</p><p>Dean shook his head at the younger man. "Dude."</p><p>Dean had seen Jake's face when he'd come in from that first date, heard him talking to Daisy on the phone, seen them together when Daisy had come over to watch a movie one night. The kid was gone. And right now he ducked his head at Dean's admonishment of his attempt at denial.</p><p>"I've always liked that girl," Jo said with a smug look at her nephew.</p><p>Jake rolled his eyes. Then started to grin. "I do, too."</p>
<hr/><p>They stood in a huddle, all seven of them, staring at the rows and rows of Christmas decorations spreading out before them.</p><p>"So, we'll start with the lights?" Jo said. "Then figure out decorations?"</p><p>They'd had a long, somewhat pointless conversation on the way into town about what kind of decorations they should get for the tree.</p><p>In turned out that everyone had firmly held – and very different – beliefs about how a tree should be decorated. Tommy wanted blinking, white lights with handmade ornaments from his childhood. Jake also liked the blinking, white lights, but wanted ornaments that looked like snowflakes and red and green orbs. Michael said he'd always liked the colored lights with the bigger bulbs and suggested popcorn strings and paper chains. Jo and Luke did their best to remind the boys that the tree was the Winchesters' and the two of them had both first say on ornaments and veto power over anyone else's choice.</p><p>The Winchesters were out of luck with the homemade ornaments, but Dean wanted colored, blinking lights, while Sam himself leaned toward the white lights that Tommy liked. Though he did kind of like the ones that didn't blink.</p><p>"Yeah," Dean agreed. "Lights first." And they trooped into that aisle.</p><p>The light selection was overwhelming. Even the white lights had multiple variations depending on how blue or yellow you wanted your white.</p><p>They wrangled back and forth until Sam realized that Dean was more invested in the color of the lights than he was himself.</p><p>"Fine," Sam capitulated. "We can do colored ones that blink."</p><p>Michael and Dean high-fived.</p><p>"But I get first pick on type of ornaments."</p><p>Dean narrowed his eyes, but agreed. "Fine."</p><p>"How many boxes do we need?" Sam asked and pushed the cart he was leaning on closer to the shelves. Luke put several boxes of colored lights in the cart.</p><p>"You know," Jo suggested, "we could get some of the white lights and string them up around the bunker."</p><p>Sam glanced at Dean who nodded his agreement, and Luke reached for a few more boxes.</p><p>The ornament aisles were the next stop. It made Sam exhausted just looking at all the choices and thinking about trying to get a consensus on the decorations. Without realizing he was doing it, he gave a loud sigh.</p><p>"This is a lot," Tommy said, somewhat awed. There were agreeing nods among the assembled group.</p><p>"You know what we could do," Dean said, looking at Sam. "We could just each get a box of ornaments we like." He shrugged. "It's not like we have to have a theme or anything."</p><p>Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother and grinned. "Yeah. Let's do that."</p><p>"And we'll set a time limit. Fifteen minutes."</p><p>"Yes!" Tommy pumped his fist. "I can get anything I want?"</p><p>"Sure," Sam said. He could see the delight on the faces of all three of the younger "boys" as they scanned the aisles.</p><p>"Wait." Jo lifted up a hand. Michael, Jake, and Tommy deflated somewhat. "That's very generous, y'all. Are you sure?"</p><p>"Absolutely," Dean said. He looked at his watch. "Ready?" The contestants assumed racing stances. "Go!"</p><p>Ultimately, the hunt wasn't as chaotic as it had seemed it might be. The boys were surprisingly – or really, not at all surprisingly – thoughtful as they considered their choices, looking carefully at all the possibilities before making their selections, Jo and Luke each picking out a couple of the individual ornaments.</p><p>In the end, they had a nice variety of ornaments. Tommy had actually found a set of do-it-yourself ornaments he thought they could make, and Michael had wandered off to return with a package of construction paper, popcorn, needles, thread, and glue.</p><p>Jo encouraged both Winchesters to pick out more than just a single box of ornaments. "You've got a big tree. It'll take a surprising number of ornaments to fill it out."</p><p>Sam was amazed at the kinds of ornaments that were available. There were traditional ornaments—candy canes, angels, stars—but then there were some of the most random objects Sam could have imagined—stuffed fruit, donuts (Dean got some of those), a sailboat. He couldn't resist the box of Star Wars themed ornaments and one that had multiple types of pie that he tucked into the bottom of the cart, hoping to surprise Dean when they got home.</p><p>Right before the end of their fifteen minutes, Luke asked, "Y'all want something for the top of the tree? Star? Angel?"</p><p>There was a pause and Sam's "star," was said in sync with his brother's.</p><p>"Star, it is," agreed Luke. He held up two options. "One of these?"</p><p>With an inquiring glance at Dean, Sam pointed to the star on the left. Dean nodded his agreement, and they were done.</p>
<hr/><p>Sam sat at one of the library tables in the bunker, staring at the now decorated tree across the room. He took a pull at his beer.</p><p>The floor around the tree was filled with presents and the giant Blue Bear was propped against a wall, additional packages in its lap. The family had agreed to a couple of hours of recovery from the shopping trip and tree decorating and Sam was enjoying the momentary stillness as everybody else had retreated to rooms for naps or reading.</p><p>Christmas was two days away, so they wouldn't have a lot of time to enjoy the tree this year, but Sam couldn't help the slight smile at the idea of being able to set the tree up earlier next Christmas and the chance to savor this part of having a home for a longer time in the years to come.</p><p>He wasn't necessarily surprised when Dean joined him at the table, beer also in hand.</p><p>"Looks good," Dean said. The lights were plugged in and the ornaments that could reflected their light dimly.</p><p>"It does."</p><p>The silence settled between them, comfortable and comforting.</p><p>"The pie ornaments are awesome." Dean gave him a grin that Sam returned. They were.</p><p>The quiet descended again, and Sam felt himself start to drift.</p><p>Sam startled at the sound of what he knew were the wings of an angel.</p><p>"Cas." Dean's voice rose in surprise at the sight of the angel that appeared across the table from them. He looked at Sam and got to his feet.</p><p>"Hello, Dean." Cas still wore the battered trench coat he'd sported so long when he was on earth. Sam couldn't help but wonder if the angel put the coat on specifically when he visited the Winchesters.</p><p>"Hey, Cas," Sam said. He didn't get up, but smiled briefly in welcome.</p><p>"Hello, Sam." He studied Sam. "How are you doing?"</p><p>"Good, thanks."</p><p>Cas nodded. "I'm sorry." He paused. "I mean, I'm not sorry that you are doing better. I'm sorry that the house fell on you."</p><p>Sam smiled. "Right. Thanks."</p><p>"I thought that if you were in the hospital you would have a chance to reconnect with your friends."</p><p>Dean and Sam exchanged looks. Dean frowned and looked back at Cas. "What does that mean exactly?"</p><p>"You did not realize that Michael and Jacob McCrae were in Austin, and I knew if Sam was in the hospital you would have an opportunity to interact with the family that had meant so much to you in the past."</p><p>Sam blinked at the angel.</p><p>Dean opened his mouth and closed it again.</p><p>Cas looked from Winchester face to Winchester face. "You missed this family and needed to be in relationship with them."</p><p>Sam and Dean stared. Sam couldn't process the implications of what Cas seemed to be saying.</p><p>"So." Dean's voice was strained, but calm. "You dropped a house on Sam so that we would reconnect with the Sweeds?"</p><p>"And exposed you to mononucleosis," Cas added.</p><p>"I...," Dean looked at Sam, who could only stare, open mouthed. "I...," Dean looked back at Cas. "I don't even know what to say to that." He took a deep breath and seemed to find his words. "Except, are you freaking <em>kidding</em> me?!"</p><p>Cas's brow drew into a frown, not seeming to understand Dean's agitation. "If I had simply told you that Michael and Jacob were in town, would you have contacted them?"</p><p>Sam exchanged a look with his brother. <em>No.</em> They both knew they wouldn't have. It had been too long, they'd've been too afraid to reach out, been able to justify not trying to reconnect by telling themselves they were protecting the family.</p><p>"If you hadn't been severely injured," Cas looked at Sam, "and desperately ill," now he turned his gaze to Dean, "would you have remained in town until Josephine and Luke had arrived or would you have slipped away again?"</p><p>Silence. They both knew the answer to that question, too.</p><p>"You have been alone too long," Cas said. "It was time."</p><p>Sam looked at the decorated tree, at the lights wrapped around the columns of the library. He could smell the pot roast cooking in the crockpot that Jo had shown Dean how to make. He looked at his brother.</p><p>"Yeah," Dean mumbled, sliding his eyes to Sam. "Well."</p><p>Cas gazed at the two of them for a long minute, then turned to the tree. "It's a nice tree," he said.</p><p>"Thanks," said Sam.</p><p>"Dean, honey?" Jo's voice drifted into the room, and Sam could hear her coming along the corridor from the kitchen.</p><p>There was the sound of angel's wings again, and Cas was gone.</p><p>Jo smiled when she saw them, grinned her continuing approval of the tree when she glanced that way. "Dean, are you ready to learn how to make the best mashed potatoes in the world?"</p><p>There was a beat of silence before Dean turned. "Yep."</p><p>As he moved toward the door, Dean passed behind the chair where Sam sat. He paused and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. When Sam looked at him, Dean huffed out a laugh, shaking his head slightly, squeezing Sam's shoulder.</p><p>"Lead the way," he said following behind Jo. "You gonna help?" he asked Sam before he left the room.</p><p>From the kitchen, Sam could hear Tommy and Jake starting to wrangle over the possibility of hot chocolate and popcorn before dinner, and he pulled himself to his feet.</p><p>"Right behind you."</p><p>
  <em> The End. </em>
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